


Laundry Buddies

by EnbyWitch



Series: Laundry Buddies [1]
Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Don't be Fooled by 'Male Friendship' They Definitely Get Together In The End, Flirting, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Nonbinary Character, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Laundry, M/M, Male Friendship, Moving In Together, Non-Binary Sock, OCs in final chapter, Romantic Comedy, Shirtless Jonathan at one point, Sock's Secret Past, bit of a slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnbyWitch/pseuds/EnbyWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My dear friend Ink suggested an AU where Jon and Sock do laundry on the exact same day, where they meet and their whole friendship takes place in the Laundromat nearby where shenanigans happen and sweet, happy, gay (possibly almost borderline creepy and weird) things happen and well, the Skype chat prompted me to write this sooo… Thank you  quirklessace!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Teen rating for possibly concerning things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan meets Sock for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by sir-knight-tinnion on Tumblr.

Laundry day. The day Jon despised despite only owning a few clothes, which included, but was not limited to: the same 5 pairs of jeans and 5 Valhalla Soundbox Tour T-shirts in various shades of white, gray and black, a few pairs of boxers and socks and his favorite hoodie. Besides the point of having most of his paycheck go to food and rent, he didn’t really see a need to have a more diverse arrangement of clothing. 

Still, he hated leaving his apartment and walking down the street to the local Laundromat with his load of clothes, sticking around for an hour doing laundry, and then trudging home. It made him miss the days when he didn't have to leave the house to do laundry. Or when it didn’t cost him so many quarters.

Upon entering the mostly empty Laundromat on this warm Sunday in June, he immediately set his bag of laundry down in front of his choice of a washer and went to the detergent machine to shove quarters into his choice of soap.

The door opened, triggering the annoying _bing bong_ of some alarm in the back. Jon couldn’t figure out what purpose it served, except to alert any of the employees maybe? Nobody ever really came out of the back room except to restock the soap machine or empty the washers and dryers of quarters. Jon always wondered how bank transactions went for people who ran Laundromats. Did they walk in with a garbage bag full of quarters and announce that they were here to deposit? He had no idea. At least imagining that kept him occupied for a bit.

He had his headphones on, music blasting his sweet, sweet music and making it clear that he wasn’t looking to talk. He wanted to do his laundry and leave so he could enjoy the rest of his day off.

He began sorting his clothes into piles of light and dark, throwing his gray clothes into either depending on the shade of gray, and his red and black work shirt in with his darks. He began with his dark load first, carefully putting in the soap and measuring the quarters and setting things in motion. He huffed out a sigh, and heaved himself onto the dryer directly behind him, pulling a Game Boy out of his pocket and turning it on to keep himself occupied while he waited.

Jon saw something out of the corner of his eye and glanced at it, almost dropping his hand held game in shock. Some kid in the weirdest clothing ensemble was dragging around what looked like a body bag. Said bag was stuffed and bunchy in a way that only suggested that it was filled with clothes, or so he hoped.

To his relief, it was. The kid dragged the bag over to a washer near Jon and unzipped it, pulling clothes out and immediately shoving them in with no thought to sorting. Jon stared at him, brows furrowed in confusion. This weirdo was wearing both a vest and a skirt over ripped blue jeans and he couldn’t tell which gender they were. What was even weirder was the seemingly permanent smile this kid was wearing. What was with that?

Jon must have stared for so long that the oblivious weirdo managed to eventually notice, and turned to meet his muted blue eyes with the greenest eyes he’d ever seen and an even bigger smile than before. He tried to avert his eyes but it was too late, because the kid was already saying hello and introducing themself. Jon sighed and removed one headphone from his ear. “What?” he said with some annoyance.

“I said, hey there, my name’s Sock, what’s yours?” the kid repeated patiently, smile not faltering for even a second.

“Jonathan. Aren’t you going to sort those first?” he asked, jerking his head to that half filled hodge podge of color in Sock’s washer. “What are you? And what kind of name is Sock?”

Sock glanced at the washer and shrugged. He frowned slightly, “What do you mean?”

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

Sock shrugged again. "Nope!" they said brightly. Jon frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I am what I am, Jonathan.” Sock went back to shoving clothes into the washer while Jon stared in confused silence after that vague answer. Once Sock got the washer running, he hoisted himself onto the dryer next to Jonathan, and smiled at him again.

“I think we got off to kind of a bad start there for a second. I really don’t really feel like I have a gender, but I go by he/him pronouns if that makes it easier,” he said.

Jon rubbed his face. “Okay, thanks?” Why was this weirdo still talking to him? He thought his body language made it very clear that he didn’t want to chat, but the kid didn’t seem to get the message.

“Whatcha playing?” Sock asked, looking down at the game Jon had forgotten was in his hand.

“Crash Bandicoot,” Jon answered, resuming his game play.

“Seriously? That game is kinda old, don’t you think?”

“I don’t give a fuck, dude, it’s a classic,” Jon said a bit defensively.

Sock laughed, “You’re too serious, Jonathan, I was just teasing you.” He swung his legs, looking around the Laundromat.

Jon grunted. “You didn’t answer my questions earlier.”

“Are they really that big of a deal to you?” Sock asked, pursing his lips. “Well okay, an old childhood friend of mine had trouble saying my old first name when we were little, and it just kinda became a nickname for me. I didn’t really like my old first name anyways...”

That caught Jon's attention. “What was it?”

Sock shook his head. “It doesn't matter anymore because I have a better one. Besides, socks are cool. What was your other question?”

“A better one? Which is?" Jonathan pressed.

The ginger snickered. "That's a secret," he said mischievously.

“Okay...”

There was finally silence and Jon let out a quiet breath of relief. He continued listening to his music and playing his game until the washer ceased its final rinse cycle. He set his game down and hopped off the dryer to empty the washer and fill the dryer he’d been sitting on. He added his second and last load, almost forgetting that it had been a while since he’d last washed his hoodie, and took that off and shoved it into the load of lights and started the wash.

He sat back down onto the dryer that now hummed and vibrated under him, shirtless and sweaty. He had hardly noticed hot it was until the slight breeze of the barely working AC hit the sweat covered body which had been previously hidden by his jacket. Gross. Jon resumed his game, completely unaware of Sock, who had watched him, red faced and eyes wide.

Sock may not have cared whether or not his laundry was sorted, but he most definitely cared that his washer neighbor was now half naked, in public, and didn’t seem to be bothered by that. But it bothered Sock, and it was far too hot for him to be as flustered as he was. Thank goodness Jon was oblivious to his current state because he didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself together otherwise.

He covered his face and forced himself to look away. Eventually he got too antsy to stay still and got up to walk around, occasionally stealing glances at Jonathan’s pale back. Did the guy ever leave his house? Or was he one of those people who never got tan? Either way, Sock felt like swooning. But whether that was the heat or other circumstances was anybody’s guess.

Eventually his load was done and he had to walk back, trying very hard not to look at Jon, who was still immersed in his game. He went through some of the same motions, putting his one load into the dryer. By now, Jon was sitting on his last load as it dried underneath him, pausing his game just to stretch. He’d fold his laundry when he got home.

Sock couldn’t help himself from watching Jon stretch, which unfortunately made his face flare up again. He was so pathetic. It was just some guy he’d just met doing laundry on a day hot enough to warrant the removal of a shirt, nothing else. So why was he so bothered? Well, it wasn’t like he was particularly comfortable with hanging out shirtless in public, so maybe that was it. He was just embarrassed.

All too quickly, Jon’s laundry was done and he was shoving his clothes into the bag he’d brought them in, and putting his jacket back on and leaving soon after, not even saying so much as a goodbye. Oh well, thought Sock, maybe he had things to do.

He rubbed his still burning face with two hands. He made up his mind that he wanted to see Jonathan again, and maybe next time he wouldn’t be such a flustered mess.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sock being really gay, kinda weird, and Jonathan half warming up to him. More insight to Sock's past, some angst. all that good stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind comments. And your kudos! It really means a lot to me!

Next week. Same day. Hotter temperatures. Jon didn’t even bother wearing his hoodie this time, not willing to risk heatstroke even to keep up his edgy appearance. He felt exposed walking across the street with his usual load, but hey, at least he didn’t drop dead on the way to the Laundromat.

He commenced with his sorting ritual, dispensing quarters and soap and wiping sweat off his face with the white A-line shirt he found in a thrift store on sale yesterday. It was a radical change to his usual attire but it was better than suffering in the heat. Well, he was still suffering, but less.

The AC was still barely working, and the door was propped open with a chunk of cement to vent the hot air buildup, but it was hard to tell if that helped much. Jon patted his pockets for his phone to keep himself occupied while he waited. He’d left his music at home, actually concerned his headphones would melt. It was way too hot for June, but maybe Al Gore was right about global warming.

 _Bing bong_. Jonathan flicked his eyes to the side on reflex, then back to the game on his phone. It took him a moment to fully register what his eyes had seen, and by then he could hear his name being sing-songed across the room by a person with far too much pep for such a hot day. He sighed and rubbed his face, and then rubbed his hand on his shirt because he was, in fact, still sweating. What was this kid’s name again? It was some kind of clothing item… Shirt? Shoe?

“Sure is hot today!” the kid continued, shoving clothes into the washer in a helter skelter fashion. Jon grunted, feeling slightly perturbed by the fact that the guy was wearing the same outfit as before, except the vest now had a few questionable stains on the front. Same bright green eyes and huge disconcerting smile and bouncy attitude to go with the floofy reddish hair half hidden by a weird hat and goggles.

Off came the vest and weird scarf thing into the washer. Now the smiling weirdo was just standing around in the bright blue tee, purple skirt, ripped jeans, and striped socks.

Sock. That was his name. Sock.

“Hot as hell,” Jonathan muttered.

Sock laughed. “Oh I can _guarantee_ you that hell is _way_ hotter than this, but this does give you a taste of what’s to come!”

Jon stared at him and raised an eyebrow. The way Sock said it, it was almost as if he'd been to Hell himself.

Sock giggled, albeit nervously. “I… I mean, yeah , definitely! Hot as hell! Never been, but I'm sure it is! Hot, I mean.”

Jonathan smirked, then rolled his eyes and dropped his attention back to his phone, and continued playing his game. He heard Sock sigh, and noticed him moving closer in his peripheral vision.

“Sorry if my jokes are a bit extreme. I’m… used to people who just take that with a grain of salt. Not saying I have a lot of friends who have the same sense of humor I do, but well...”

“It’s fine. You’re just weird, I get it,” Jon said, really wishing Sock would just leave him alone. "And they're not extreme, just, y'know... weird."

He heard Sock sigh again, this time in relief. “Thanks,” he said, leaving Jon alone for a while after that. He was vaguely aware of the kid heaving himself onto a dryer and swinging his legs like a little kid. Which begged the question, how old was Sock anyway? He looked pretty young to be by himself in a laundromat. Washing his own clothes every week like he didn’t have a mom to do that for him.

Jon sat up and popped his back to relieve it of the tension from being hunched over. “Hey,” he said, looking over at Sock. Sock turned his head to look at him, and cocked his head, “Yes, Jon?”

“How old are you anyway?”

Sock smiled coyly. “How old do I look?” he returned.

Jon squinted at him and pressed his lips together. “Fourteen.”

Sock’s smile widened. “I get that so much you have no idea. It’s the voice I think. I’m either a prepubescent boy or late blooming girl, according to literally anyone I meet,” he laughed. “I’m actually twenty. Shocking, right?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Yeah. Shocking.”

It was the voice that threw him off the first time they met sure, but also Sock’s soft, round baby face. It made him look like a child. Twenty years old. Huh.

“How old are _you_?” Sock asked back, leaning in with what looked like a flirtatiously smug grin. Jon leaned away slightly. “Eighteen,” he answered bluntly.

Sock’s eyes widened. “I’m older than you!?” he exclaimed like he just discovered Narnia was real.

“By two years. It’s not a big deal.” Jon rolled his eyes.

“I’m older than you,” Sock repeated, smug.

Geez this guy was obnoxious. Jon sighed. “Yeah. Yep. Uh huh. You’re older. Now please leave me alone.”  
  
“Don’t give me that, Jonathan. I thought you were like… twenty-five or something. But _I’m_ the older one,” Sock giggled.

“Twenty-five, really?”

“I can’t help that I’m into older men. Kidding!” he laughed when he saw the horrified look of Jon’s face.” Just kidding, geez. I mean, men are great and I am definitely not straight but I have _some_ standards.”

Jon rubbed his face. In less than five minutes he’d learned more about Sock than he wanted to.

“You don’t have a problem with that, do ya?” a concerned voice asked, bringing him back to the conversation.

“What? You being gay?” Jon asked.

“Well, not straight, but yeah.” Sock gestured vaguely.

“No.” He didn't outright mention it, but Jonathan wasn't particularly straight either. He didn't feel like it was important enough to share it with some weirdo he'd barely met a week ago, anyway.

“Okay. Good.”

Another silence. Sock still looked uncertain. Or embarrassed? Hard to tell really. Sock was an open book most of the time but when he had conflicting emotions it was hard to tell how he really felt.

It wouldn’t be the first time Sock outed himself to a near stranger and had them refuse to talk to him again as a result. If the outfit he usually wore, how chatty he usually was, or his smiling didn’t drive them away, it was usually that last factor. Sock sighed dejectedly and stared at his clothes as they tumbled around in their soapy confinement.

“Dude, it’s fine.” He heard Jonathan say, but he didn’t acknowledge that. “Really, I’m more annoyed that you thought I was that old and acted so smug about a two year age difference. You’re obnoxious; no wonder people think you’re fourteen.”

“Do you really mean that?” Sock asked, seeming to brighten up a little.

Jon nodded with a sigh. He was going to regret this, wasn’t he?

Sock leaned over and threw his arms around Jon with a smile. “Thank you!”

Jon stiffened, immediately regretting his decision to console Sock. Thankfully the weirdo let him go before he had time to complain, but he was still fairly shaken by the sudden unwanted physical contact. Sock was back to his happy, bouncy self, at least. That was better than him acting like his life was over. Jon wasn’t sure what that was about, but he decided to change the subject.

He asked about Sock’s home life. Sock seemed unwilling to share many personal details about his parents, but he did share that he was home alone a lot as a kid and kinda just barely learned to take care of himself before moving out, hence why he didn’t bother sorting his clothes before washing. He didn’t have his mom around to teach him that stuff.

“Although Meph gets pretty anal about it, but he’s too busy to get on my case very often-”

“Wait, who’s Meph?” Jon interrupted.

“Mephistopheles. He’s like… my adoptive father, but he’s also my boss? I don’t know. We have a weird, complex, father-son relationship in which I also get paid. I remind him of himself, he said once.” Sock shrugged.

“What job?”

“Uhhh,” Sock shrugged vaguely. “It's kind of like.... An internship slash errand boy kinda thing? I run around doing his bidding, and learn how to run things when he's not around. I think he expects me to take over someday? He's not married, doesn't have kids, and I'm the closest thing to a son to him.”

"Oh, that's cool," Jonathan replied.

He switched out his laundry. Sock went on talking. Jon was asked about his home life. He, too, had been home alone a lot. His mom taught him how to take care of himself when she had the time between working two jobs. He never had a dad, and his mom had had him when she was just a teenager. Life was rough for the two of them, but they got by all right. He moved out and got a job and basically wore the same clothes to save money for rent and food.

Sock’s parents had a lot of money and he got money from them every week despite being an adult with his own job, so he could afford having so many clothes. To hear Jon’s story made him feel funny, Jon’s mom really loved him to have worked so much to provide. Sock’s parents worked hard, but it was more of a status thing than to provide for their only son.

 

Sock was quiet for a long time before Jon realized something was wrong. “Hey,” he nudged Sock with his elbow as he was adding his second load of clothes to the dryer. “You alright?”

Sock sighed. “Yeah. I just- my parents weren’t really around a lot and I kinda just realized that the only indication that they acknowledge my existence at all is through the 'sorry we neglected you, here's some compensation as an apology' money I get every week. Your mom wasn’t around cause she was trying to make sure you grew up okay, but mine were just working for their own benefit. They never cared about me...”

Ouch. Jon started the dryer and put his hand on Sock’s shoulder. “Okay, that’s probably not true. They’re still trying to make up for not being there by giving you money to help, right?”

“I guess,” Sock mumbled, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his head on his knees.

“And you’ve got your boss, who’s kinda like a dad?” Jon went on.  
  
Sock fought a smile. “He makes a lot of clever puns. Makes sure I’ve eaten… Gets on my case about separating my clothes and folding them. He bought me a tailored suit after finding out I didn’t own one.”

“…He’s honestly a better dad than your parents ever were. Good for you for having him in your life,” Jon wholeheartedly admitted after a pause. That made Sock smile. “Thanks. I guess I got really lucky meeting him after… getting out of my parent’s house.”

Jon smiled a little. They shared a tender silence before Jon broke it by clearing his throat and taking his hand away. Both their faces flushed pink and the silence grew awkward. It stayed that way for a long time, neither one looking at each other. Well, Sock snuck glances at Jon. He couldn’t help it. No matter what, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the male. His face matched his hat in color every time he caught himself staring but he just kept looking back.

Jonathan touched him. _Willingly._ Sock _had_ noticed how Jon had stiffened before when he’d been hugged. Sock took that to mean that Jon didn’t like to be touched, so it was an honor to feel the heat of that hand through his shirt.

All too soon though, Jon was shoving his dry clothes into his laundry bag and passing by Sock on his way to the door. Sock snapped out of his thoughts to call out a farewell. Jon put his hand up and flicked his wrist, but didn’t look back.

Sock licked his lips and hid his grinning face in his knees. He felt giddy. He barely knew Jon and he was already losing his gay little heart. Who knew that someone so pale and grumpy would win his heart so fast? He really was crushing hard, wasn’t he?

He sighed and crossed his legs. Maybe next Sunday he’d learn more about the male.

Like his number.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest and gayest chapter I've ever written. It took me over a month to write. Enjoy! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to 1PennDragon1 for editing.

Week three. It was hotter than it had ever been. Jon was so thankful that the lady who owned his apartment took pity on him and decided to foot his AC bill this month because he swore he would be a puddle of fake blond emo soaking into the carpet otherwise.

It took him longer to get out the door with his laundry bag. He was sweating only moments after leaving the air conditioning. Gross.

“Hey Jonathan!” he heard his name being called as he walked to the crosswalk. Jon looked up and saw Sock standing there with his body bag, waving with a smile on his face. He looked genuinely pleased to see Jonathan. Jon half-heartedly raised his hand to wave back. It was too hot for him to do much more.

“Guess you live around here, huh?” Sock asked.

Jon grunted.

“Yeah, me too,” came the reply. And that was the extent of their conversation.

Once inside the laundromat, the air appeared to be much cooler. Maybe they finally got the air conditioning unit running efficiently, or whatever it was. In any case it was welcoming, and Jon felt a bit more prepared to deal with Sock’s chatter.

There was something about watching Sock shove his clothes into the washer willy-nilly that made Jon stop sorting his own clothes and put a hand on Sock’s arm. “Okay, no. Stop. Take those out and sort them.”

Sock looked at him strangely. “What?”

“Take your clothes out and sort them. For fucks sake Sock...” Jon repeated, rolling his eyes.

Sock blinked. A slow smile crossed his face and he did as he was told, giggling.

When there was a pile of colorful clothing around Sock’s feet, he stood there, still smiling and said, “Now what?”

“What do think? Sort them into piles of lights, darks, and colors.” Jon huffed. It was like teaching a smart-mouthed child.

Sock snickered, bending over to pick up some red articles of clothing, and tossing them into the washer. Jon watched him for a bit, to make sure Sock didn’t slip a white shirt in or something, before turning to finish sorting his own.

“Hey Jon,” Sock said a moment later. Jon threw in his whites and looked over, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you mind if we share loads? I kind of don’t really have that many light colored clothes and you haven’t started your load yet sooo...” Sock looked away nervously. Jon didn’t say anything, considering it. Sock fidgeted with his hands, sticking one into his vest pocket to pull out a plastic sandwich bag full of quarters. “I’ll pay,” he offered, smiling nervously, his cheeks flushed.

Jonathan shrugged, “Yeah, okay.” He backed up and let Sock pick up his lights and toss them into the washer. The larger load would cost more quarters, but true to his words, Sock paid the difference.

“Thanks,” Sock said. He went quiet for a moment as he started his own load. “You want to share loads from now on? I mean, for someone who makes such a big deal out of sorting, you really don’t have that many clothes to sort and it seems like kind of a waste of quarters, you know? And like we seem to do laundry on the same day so it would make a lot of sense and I kinda… um… would like to talk to you more...”

Sock fell silent after he realized that he was rambling. He had admitted something he’d been afraid to share with the other on the off chance Jon would change his washing schedule. “Again, I’ll pay!” he said quickly.

"Well, uh." Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck, thinking, processing that, "I guess? You don't have to though."

“I will if it means you’ll stay!” Sock insisted, looking like he was about to cry. “I get more money from my parents than I can spend on myself just- Please...”

Jon blinked, giving him an odd look. “Dude… chill… We can share loads alright, just calm down. I’m not going anywhere… whatever you mean by that...”

“Uh...” Sock tugged on his hat, embarrassed. He looked away. “I kinda weird people out, and don’t make friends easily. The few I make eventually get too weirded out and… and they leave. I thought that was going to happen again because I was being too friendly and making assumptions. You probably don’t think of me as a friend… I’m sorry.”

Jon sighed. Boy this kid had problems, didn’t he? From parental abandonment to constantly having friends walk out of his life. Jon grew up without having many friends, so he could relate somewhat.

“It’s fine, Sock. I never had many friends either. If you want me to stick around and talk, fine, I guess I don’t really have anything else to do. It’s too hot to do anything, anyway.”

Sock took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around Jonathan gently, pressing his face into Jon’s chest. This was the second time he’d hugged Jonathan without much warning, but Jon didn’t freeze up this time. Instead, he awkwardly patted Sock’s back, feeling sorry for him.

Sock pulled back before Jon could push him away, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, probably should have asked first if I could hug ya, huh?” Sock smiled awkwardly. His cheeks were flushed and for a moment Jon couldn’t say anything. Sock just looked too cute. With those bright green eyes that sparkled mischievously and, wow, did he have freckles? With Sock being so close like this, Jon could definitely see the tiny freckles on Sock’s face. They were small but they were there.

All of sudden the eyes centered themselves and were looking up to meet Jon’s in the silence. Jon always thought that cheesy romantic things they always told about in movies and books was stupid and fake. You know, the “heart pounding, blood rushing, butterflies in the stomach” things. Well, turns out he was woefully wrong there. Jon felt his face grow warm. He stepped back and cleared his throat. “Y-yeah.” Oh God his voice broke, what was he, 15?

He couldn’t look at Sock, so he stared at the instructions on how to use the washing machines instead. He vaguely heard shuffling and glanced once to see Sock moving his dark clothes into a neater pile in front of the washer. Jon didn’t comment on it.

The silence between them was awful, but neither of them knew how to break it. Despite what Jon had said before the hug, Sock was sure he’d fucked up somehow. Jon had conflicting feelings, which was a drastic change from zero feelings and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

Eventually Sock took a deep breath and let it go. “So, um...” he started, rubbing his arm and searching for something to break the awkward silence. Jon didn’t say anything.

“Where do you work?” Sock asked, hoping small talk would be enough to break the ice.

“7-11.” Jonathan stated, saying nothing more.

“Oh.”

More silence. Sock fidgeted; Jon stared into nothing.

“Did I do something wrong?” came the hesitant question.

“No.” came the deadpan answer.

If not broken by the rumbling of the washing machines, the silence would have been unbearably deafening.

“Are you sure?” The question was quieter, softer, more apprehensive.

Jon’s heart softened almost against his will. He relaxed and sighed, turning his attention to Sock, who was curled in on himself on the floor, back against a dryer, tugging on his hat. His eyes were hidden by his bangs, but there was no doubt in Jon’s mind that Sock was either crying or at the very least on the verge of tears.

Jonathan slid down to sit next to Sock. He touched Sock’s shoulder gently. “I’m sure. I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’t your fault. At least, not intentionally.”

Sock lifted his head. His eyes were vacant. “What do you mean, _not intentionally_?”

“Uh...” Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, um...” He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “You know...” Crap, what could he say that didn’t sound like… really gay?

“…No, I don’t know,” Sock’s voice sounded empty at first, but began lilting up with a smug tone at the possibility of knowing something Jon was afraid to say. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Shit. “Uh… Well um...” Jon stammered. “You’re really cute. I mean, you act like a kid but you… have a nice face?”

He glanced at Sock, who by this time had a big grin on his face. “Gee, Jonathan, that’s _really gay_ ,” he said smugly.

“I’m trying!” Jon said exasperatedly. “I just noticed that you had freckles and I thought it was cute, okay? Stop looking at me like that!”

Sock laughed and nudged Jon with his shoulder. “You should just ask for my number, if you’re so interested.” Sock bat his lashes at Jonathan and burst into a fit of giggles at the flabbergasted look on Jon’s face.

Jon rolled his eyes and pushed himself up, ignoring Sock’s feeble attempts to keep him on the ground, and brushed off his pants.

“I’m serious you know,” Sock said, also getting up and brushing himself off. “If you want my number just ask.”

Jon grunted.

“Or should I say, I really want to give you mine,” Sock said in a voice that was aloof, yet dripping with intent. “I really like talking to you, but I only get to see you once a week, and it would probably be really weird to ask you where you live.”

Jon huffed. “Trying to hit on me already?” he smirked.

“No!” Sock objected, turning pink. “I-I mean… unless you want me to...” He mumbled those last five words, turning redder with each syllable. Jon raised a single eyebrow, fighting a smile. Sock glued his eyes to the floor, his face as red as his hat.

Jonathan pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocked it, and opened up his contacts. He selected ‘New Contact’ and offered his phone to Sock. “Here,” he said, “put your details in.”

Sock looked up and took the device without a word, quickly putting his name and number in. He handed the phone back, rubbing his still flushed face with one hand and moving it to the back of his neck. Jon thought it was cute how much of a flustered mess Sock could become with just a few words.

He tapped in a short message to Sock. A second later, a muted buzz was heard and Sock pulled his phone out of his vest pocket. The phone case had little devil horns. Just when Jon thought there wasn’t any possible way Sock could get more weirdly cute.

Sock smiled slightly and added Jon’s number to his phone. He looked up to see Jon looking at his phone and then at him. “Cute phone case,” Jon commented. His phone was protected by an otterbox. A little pricey, but it meant that he didn’t have to keep replacing his phone if he dropped it. He figured that Sock preferred fashion over function, and could afford to have a flimsy, if cute, phone case.

Sock’s face hadn’t stopped being red in the last minute. He giggled and flipped his phone up to show the little forked tail design on the back. “Yeah, Meph got it for my last birthday.” He stuck it back in his pocket.

The washers ceased moving, and they both moved to transfers their loads to the dryers. After exchanging lights and colors in separate washers for darks in a single one, they resumed making light conversation.

Sock swung his legs. He was sitting atop one of the dryers in the comfortable silence that followed, smiling at Jonathan. After that awkward transition from his past problems to current gay emotions, it was nice to just _be_.

Jon wasn’t looking at him, but he was aware of Sock’s gaze. Socializing was exhausting, so he was glad things were quiet between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, thankfully.

Later, when they were sitting on the ground sorting their dried clothes back to their own piles, Sock made a comment that Jon didn’t quite hear. “Hm?” he grunted, glancing up at Sock. Sock flushed pink and cleared his throat. “Um… I said, you don’t have many clothes, do you?” he repeated. Jon shook his head. “Nope. Never needed many. I have enough to get me through the week and most of my paycheck goes to food and rent so, why bother?”  
  
“Could I maybe-” Sock started, but Jonathan shook his head. “No Sock, don’t offer to buy me clothes.”   
  
“Why not? I have money!” Sock asked.

“I know, and that I can’t pay you back is the problem.” Jon said patiently, as if he’s said this a million times. He knew a few people who offered to let him borrow their clothes, but he never really took them up on it.

“You don’t have to pay me back,” Sock insisted. “You’ve already agreed to be my friend, and that’s payment enough to me!”  


“Still…” Jon paused a moment, hesitating. “I feel guilty, y’know? I don’t like feeling like I can’t afford clothes. I don’t want to depend on other people for stuff like I can’t provide for myself.”

“Okay, if it upsets you so much, I won’t push it. Just know that the offer is always there, okay?” he smiled warmly at Jon.

Jon mumbled an ‘okay’ and went back to sorting.

“Now if you want to borrow-” Sock started to say after a moment’s pause.

“ _Sock_ ,” Jonathan warned.

“You’re right; have you seen the size I wear?” Sock asked sarcastically, but watched as Jon picked up one of his shirts and checked the tag. Jon looked up him, raising an eyebrow, passing the shirt back. “Are you sure you’re not 14, dude? I don’t think I know any 20 year olds who still wear a small.”

Sock stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “You know me,” he said softly.

“You don’t count since I don’t know for sure if you’re actually the age you say you are.”

“Oh come on, Jonathan!” Sock objected, rolling his eyes. Jon shrugged.

“What do I have to do- Call my parents? Get a copy of my birth certificate? Wait I think Mephistopheles might have a copy…”

As he pulled his phone out of his vest pocket, Jon snorted. “You’re really gonna call your boss to confirm your age to me?” he asked, snickering.

“Well duh, since you won’t believe me and apparently need a second opinion,” Sock huffed, clearly annoyed that he had to do this. Jon covered his mouth with a hand to hide his smile as he watched Sock select a number and put his phone on speaker.

After a few rings, someone picked up, and a cheerful but businesslike voice answered. “Y’lo this is Mephistopheles, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“Sock,” Sock answered, keeping his serious gaze on Jonathan as he spoke. “I need to ask a favor.”  
  
“Well if it ain’t my favorite employee! What’s up, Sowachowski, whatcha need?”

“I need you to tell Jon here how old I am.” Sock looked so serious Jon was a bit unnerved.

“Another unbeliever, eh? How old did they think you were this time- Wait is this the same Jon you like?” A sound like a filing cabinet being opened was heard. Sock flushed pink. “That- That’s not important!”

“I don’t know kid, the way you talk about him sometimes makes him sound pretty important.”

Sock ducked his head. He wasn’t looking at Jon anymore, which was a shame cause Jon had the smuggest look on his face right then. He leaned forward. “So you talk about me, huh?” he asked. Sock squeaked.

“Oh yeah, all the time,” Meph answered a bit distractedly. “He never shuts up about you.”

Sock groaned, rubbing his red face with one hand. Jon smirked. “What does he say?” he asked.

“Welllll…” Meph paused, allowing Sock to simmer in his discomfort a moment longer. “I believe the most recent one was about how you like to play old school games and look _really_ good in a-”

“Please don’t tell him that!” Sock whined. “Just tell him how old I am; I know you have the file open on your desk!”

“Alright alright, let’s see… Born… Yep, 20 years ago! Does that quell your suspicions, Jonnyboy?”

“Are you _sure_?” Jon pressed. “Feels like you’re just agreeing with him.”

“Well according to law, I’m not allowed to hire him unless he’s at least sixteen years of age. So, at least know I’m not keeping a literal child on staff, just a partial one.”  


“Meph you’ve _known_ me since I was 16!” Sock objected.

“So a few months, then?” It became clear at that point that Mephistopheles was teasing, and that maybe Sock was telling the truth for how upset he was getting over this conversation. Jon cleared his throat, “I think it does answer my suspicions, sir, thank you.”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Bye Sock!” And with that cheerful goodbye, the man hung up. Sock dropped his phone in his lap and covered his face. In the silence that followed that conversation, Jon put his clothes in his bag and turned to lean against a dryer with a sigh.

“So you’ve talked about me, huh?” he said.

“We are not having this conversation,” Sock said, his voice muffled by his hands.

“There’s no shame in me playing old school games.”

“ _We are not having this conversation_ ,” Sock repeated louder with more fervor.

“You are a lot more ‘not straight’ than I thought, huh?” Jon asked, looking and sounding smug.  
  
“Jon…” Sock took his hands away from his face. He looked genuinely upset. Jon dropped his snarky attitude and reached over to touch Sock’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I believe you, alright? What’s the big deal?”

Sock took a shaky breath and sighed. “It's not important.”

“I dunno, seems pretty important. You look really upset.”

“I just- Meph does that everytime I call him about confirming my age. It’s happened too many times for me to count and it just gets really old, but he thinks it’s really funny. No matter what I say he won’t stop-” Sock’s voice broke.

Oh boy. Jon sighed, moving to pull Sock closer to him. “Dad jokes from hell?” he said, attempting to understand.

“Kinda.” Sock curled up at Jon’s side, face flushing slightly as Jon’s arm slipped around him as an awkward means of comfort. “It’s complicated. He does this to other people, of course, but since I’m the youngest employee, it just isn’t the same.”

“I see…”

“It’s not fair, Jon! Not even the janitor, Tom, has to deal with it!” Sock objected, his eyes filling with tears. “I guess he kinda has to deal with being Employee of the Month as a running joke but it’s better than being treated as a child all the time!”

Jon thought it was better than he didn’t make a comment about how, to be fair, Sock did kind of act like a child. Instead he said, “That really sucks.”

“Yeah,” Sock said softly. He let his eyes drift over the last bits on his clothing still strewn on the ground. He became very aware of the warmth Jon gave off in the now cold air of the laundromat. His cheeks grew warmer. Sock cleared his throat and moved to pick up the last of his clothes. “Thanks for… comforting me, I guess?”  


“No problem,” Jon answered. He shifted his position to get more comfortable and rested his head against the dryer, feeling the hum and vibration lull him to a sort of doze. He was vaguely aware of Sock settling down next to him, not in the spot he left, but still close. Jon closed his eyes and the next thing he knew, Sock was poking him in his (rather ticklish) side to get him to wake up.

Jon wiggled away and swatted at the offending fingers, but his movements were slow and clumsy and the owner of the fingers dodged him easily.

He heard Sock snicker, and he opened his eyes in annoyance, blinking in the bright light. He squinted, bleary eyes focusing on the blurry outline of other. Sock was smiling mischievously, darting another finger in towards Jon’s side. It connected with Jon’s rib and he shuddered reflexively and jerked his arm to cover that spot. “Ssstop that,” he slurred, sleep affecting his speech.

“Are you ticklish, Jon?” asked a voice that very clearly already knew the answer to that.

“No,” he answered anyway. “Jus’ don’t like bein’ touched.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Sock took that moment to prod Jon’s side again. Jon made a noise that sounded like a short laugh, and pulled his hand away from his face to glare at Sock. “Are _you_ ticklish?” he demanded, reaching up to return the attack to his sides.

Sock stepped back out of harm’s way and shook his head fervently, his bangs swinging wildly. “Nope!” He looked nervously to the side, his smile faltering slightly. Jon pushed himself off the ground slowly, pausing to stretch. His back popped with a loud crack, and Sock got a weird look on his face as his face flushed in reaction. Jon wasn’t paying attention as he relieved his stiff body of tension, cracking his knuckles and neck. He sighed once that was all over, then looked back at Sock, whose face was flushed while his whole body shook slightly.

Jon looked at him with an odd look. “What?”

“Ah, um,” Sock mumbled, “N-nothing… Can you teach me to do that?”

“Do what?”

“That… uh… what you just did…” Sock stammered.

“What, this?” Jon asked, popping a knuckle he missed. He watched Sock visibly flinch and make a noise. It sounded like a sigh but Jon couldn’t be sure. Sock nodded.

Jon shrugged, “Sure, here, give me your hand.”

Sock, very hesitantly, offered his hand to Jon. Jon didn’t seem to think anything of it as he calmly pressed Sock’s fingers down and popped his knuckles, but Sock was a mess. He was more focused on the fact that Jon was technically holding his hand than on what Jon was doing. He barely noticed the sting of the release of pressure in his fingers. What he did notice was that Jon’s eyes were blue. A kind of muted blue that made them look black or gray at first glance, but up close...

“This one is a little tricky but-” Jon’s voice brought his attention back to what was going on. He watched Jon’s thumb push up just under the curve where his thumb met his wrist, and there was a satisfying pop that made him shudder. “Whoa,” he breathed.

“You really like the sound of cracking knuckles, huh?” Jon commented, watching as Sock’s face flushed darker.

“N-no!” Sock objected. Jon laughed, letting Sock’s hand go. “Alright, you try with your other hand.”

Sock stared down at his other hand, biting his lip. “Can you do this one too?” he asked, not willing to admit he hadn’t been paying attention. Jon sighed and smiled softly, taking Sock’s other hand and taking his time carefully popping each knuckle while Sock watched.

“So, um, I… I kinda woke you up because your laundry is done drying.” Sock said quietly. “I already took it out and sorted it and put it in your bag for you, you know, as thanks for… everything I guess. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, well thanks,” Jon responded. He finished and let go of Sock’s hand. Sock rubbed the palms of his hands interchangeably over his knuckles, wiggling his fingers. They were kind of sore, but he didn’t mind.

“Next week, I’ll show you how to pop your back,” Jon said, pushing Sock a little. Sock laughed a little. “Yeah, okay. See you next week then?” he asked, walking to pick up his bag as Jon grabbed his.

“Yeah,” Jon answered.

Sock grinned at him and turned to leave the laundromat. Jon waited a bit, making sure that he wasn’t leaving clothes in the dryer. His stomach grumbled. He sighed a bit, could he even afford to eat anything today? Well, he didn’t spend his all of his laundry money, so he guessed he could afford a bag of chips at the 7-11 he worked at. It wasn’t that far from here. Maybe he would get lucky at catch Lil on her break when he got there.

With that plan in mind, Jon left the laundromat.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Ding-a-ling! _   
  


“Ugh, I was _ just _ about to go on break,” grumbled a familiar voice as Jon stepped into the 7-11.

 

“Hello to you too, Lil,” he responded, approaching the counter. He dropped his bag of clothes to the floor and leaned against the counter..

 

“Oh, it’s you,” Lil said, looking more grumpy than she sounded. “You come to cover my shift or…”

 

“Nah, I was actually going to grab a snack. Turns out I have enough money for some chips, maybe?” he trailed off and leaned back to look at the chip aisle behind him. He heard Lil sigh. “Sandwiches are half off today, cause they expire tomorrow or something. How much you got on you?”

 

Jon reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of quarters. Lil sighed harder, “Laundry day. Of course. Put those away, I’ll just buy you a sandwich.”

 

Jon frowned, “Lil…”

 

“Don’t. I know how you feel, but I also know that a bag of Doritos isn’t gonna do squat. It’s okay, what are three dollars to me anyway. I just don’t want to count all those fuckin’ quarters. Go pick out a sandwich. Seriously-” she reached across the counter to push his shoulder, “-you can pay me back when you have cash.” She said that last bit when he refused to budge. Jon reluctantly turned, unable to give a defense.

 

“And don’t worry about getting me anything, Jojo already bought me lunch!” she called. Jon groaned. She knew him too well. He grabbed a turkey sandwich and came back to the counter. Lil rang him up and took out a five dollar bill from her wallet. “Pick out a bag of chips too, or a soda, I don’t care. Anything under two dollars.”

 

Jon wanted to protest but he knew it probably wouldn’t do any good, so he went to the soda machines and got a large Coke, then came back to the counter while Lil tapped the screen and retrieved her own change. “Go wait for me outside. I’m just gonna inform TJ that I’m going on break and then I’ll join you.”

 

“Alright- Hey, can I put this behind the counter?” Jon asked, setting his drink down on the counter and bending down to pick up his bag of laundry with a grunt. Lil shrugged and made a motion with a hand for Jon to come around the counter, so he took that as a yes, and dropped off his bag behind the counter with a mumbled, ‘thanks’. He grabbed his food, and walked outside, choosing a spot in front of the store to sit and set his food down to wait.

 

Lil didn’t take long, and soon she was outside holding a bag from subway and jerking her head for Jon to follow her. He got up and did so, following her to a more shady area in the back of the store, where someone had set up some crates as makeshift chairs and tables. They set their food down on one of the upturned crates and pulled up a couple more crates, sat down, and dug in without another word. The only sounds heard were the crinkling of wrappers, and ice stirring together and against the sides of their styrofoam confinement whenever Jon angled his cup to take a sip of soda. 

 

Lil finished her sandwich faster than Jon did, considering she was used to taking small breaks and having to eat her food quickly so she wouldn’t be yelled at for dawdling, but their manager was never around on Sundays, and business was slow on hot days like this, so she had some time to chill. She spent that time on her phone, in silence. Jonathan liked that about her. He liked that she wasn’t overly chatty and just preferred to hang with someone in silence.

 

He eventually finished his lunch and sat there sipping his soda and listening to the cicadas scream.

 

“So…” Lil said after a bit. Jon glanced in her direction, taking a long drag of his soda. She was holding a cigarette and a lighter that she got from who knows where seeing as how she was wearing an outfit that didn’t have pockets. “You mind if I?...” she gestured to the cig with her lighter. Jon shook his head.

 

Lil stuck the cig in her mouth and lit it, taking a long drag of smoke. “Jojo hates it when I smoke, but it helps with the stress,” Lil said, cancerous vapors escaping her mouth. “I’d quit, but I kinda don’t see the reason. If I die I won’t have to work at this shitty job anymore, or do taxes, or pay rent to my greedy landlord.”

 

Jon grunted, finishing his soda and popping the lid off to eat the ice. “Wouldn’t Jojo miss you if you died, though?” he asked.

 

“I guess…” Lil answered. “Hard to tell if she actually cares about me or is keeping me around so she has someone to complain to about stuff. But I guess she does make sure I’m eating and getting to bed on time and showering regularly. Little self care things, so maybe she does care.”

 

Jon chewed on an ice cube. “Well, she is your girlfriend.”

 

“We’re not dating we just live together and split rent,” Lil objected, but her face was already flushed, and it wasn’t just because of the heat.

 

“Right, and I’m straight,” Jon retorted with a smirk. 

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Lil grumbled, rubbing her face with a hand.

 

Jon laughed. Lil glared at him. “Can’t wait for you to get a boyfriend so  _ I _ can be the one to tease you about this stuff.”

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet,” Jon replied. “Can barely afford to keep myself out of debt as is.”

 

“Dating someone  _ can _ get pretty expensive at times,” Lil agreed, “but it isn’t always going out all the time. It can also be staying in and just, I don’t know, cuddling in bed or on the couch-”

 

“Or in front of a fan?”

 

“Yeah. Or texting for hours. Making a meal for your significant other, even. You make it work when you’re broke.”

 

Jon grunted again. For some reason his mind kept jumping to doing all that with Sock. All things considered, Sock could probably afford to take him out to places, but the guilt of being unable to pay him back made Jon get cold feet about the idea. But cuddling the weirdo he could do. He already knew from a couple hugs that Sock was equal parts soft and bony, but he wondered what it would be like cuddle. Sock seemed flexible enough to easily find a position where his boniness wouldn’t be digging into Jon, but-

 

Jonathan shook his head to get rid of the thought before it went anywhere, and tilted the cup up to get the rest of the ice. After that he got up and popped his back, and gathered his garbage. “I should be going. I have laundry to fold, and you should probably go back to work.”

 

Lil made a face, taking another drag and dropping the cig to the ground so she could grind it out with her heel. “Yeah, I guess.” She grabbed her subway bag of trash and offered it to Jon so he could put his trash in there, so he did. They headed back around the store and went inside, Jon, to get his clothes, and Lil, to her job. The store was still just as empty as when they had left it, save for the bored looking college student half-asleep at the register.

 

“Hey TJ,” Jon said, “Can you hand me that bag over there?”

 

TJ snapped to attention long enough to do what was requested of him before returning to his previous position and state of consciousness. Jon took his bag of laundry with a ‘thanks’ and called out a goodby to Lil before heading back out into the heat.

 

He walked into his apartment drenched in sweat and debating never leaving his air conditioned apartment until September. Maybe, just maybe, he could claim he got some heat exhaustion related injury and take a couple months of vacation. There was still his rent though, and while his landlady was nice enough, she wouldn’t stand for him not paying his rent for the next two months when he wasn’t going anywhere.

 

Jon groaned, and lay down on the couch, waiting for his body temperature to cool down some before he did any laundry folding. Why the fuck was he still living in the Midwest of all places with its fickle temperatures and shitty low paying jobs and close-minded people?

 

Oh yeah, cause he couldn’t afford to leave, right. He sighed and pushed himself up off the couch with a grunt, grabbing his bag of laundry and dragging it to his bedroom. He emptied the bag onto his bed and began folding, putting his jeans in one pile, his shirts in another, socks and underwear in yet another pile, when he noticed he was missing a shirt. His black VS 2007 Tour shirt. He checked the bag, but it was empty. He checked around his room and bed, but no shirt. He hummed to himself, pulling out his phone to text Sock.

 

hey you did said you did my laundry right?

 

After a moment his phone buzzed in his hand.

 

**Yeah.**

 

well did you make sure to get ALL of my clothes? cause i’m missing a shirt

 

**Uh…. I think so.** ****  
  


Weird

 

**Which one was it?**

 

my black shirt

i checked my bag and everywhere it could have been but it’s not here

 

**Well I think the laundromat has a lost and found, maybe you could check next week to see if it’s there.**

 

yeah okay

 

Jon frowned, annoyed. That was the last time he would fall asleep in public.

 

**Sorry about that I really thought I got them all. :( If you don’t find it would you let me buy you a shirt to replace it?**

 

i’ll think about it

 

**Sweet.**

 

He wanted to say no, but he had a feeling that Sock would feel guilty and continue to bug him about that unless Jon let him, so he figured he could let the kid do it at least once.

 

but’s the only thing you’re buying for me, got it? i don’t want to have to owe you anything

 

**You’re cute Jon but you don’t owe me anything. It’s the least I can do for losing your shirt!**

 

Jon felt his cheeks redden at being called cute and he glared at his phone.

 

i’m not cute

 

He put his phone down and started putting his clothes away in his dresser drawers. He heard his phone buzz but didn’t look at it until all his clothes were put away. Then he walked back to his bed and picked up his phone, looking at the message as he sat down.

 

**Yes you are! :3**

 

no

 

**Yes!**

 

no

 

**Yes!**

 

no

 

**You can say no all you want it doesn’t stop it from being true!**

 

…….shut up

 

**;3c**

 

Jon groaned, dropping his phone in his lap and hiding his face in his hands. Somehow he was getting more flustered from Sock’s flirty texts than he did from just being around the guy, and he was annoyed at himself. He inhaled deeply and picked up his phone again, desperate to turn the tables on the other.

 

yeah well

you’re even cuter than me

 

**Awwww! Thanks Jon~ <3**

 

Fuck, it backfired.  _ And _ made him even more flustered in the process. Jon grumbled and lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He brought his phone up to stare at the message and tapped out a response.

 

you’re welcome i guess

 

**Someone’s flustered~**

 

i have no idea what you’re talking about

 

**Please, Jon, I wasn’t born yesterday. >:3 **

 

really? could have fooled me with how young you look

 

**RUDE.**

 

B)

 

**> :C**

**Meanie.**

 

aw don’t be like that

 

**Fuck you.**

 

i mean… 

 

**WAIT**

 

sure but take me out to dinner first ;)

 

**ASDFGFSDHG**

 

Jonathan chuckled, glad to finally have the upper hand. He watched as Sock floundered and keysmashed and attempted to regain the control he had lost.

 

**I**

**I MEAN**

**I GUESS**

 

now who’s the flustered one

 

**Shut up >:C**

 

nah

 

**Meanie.**

 

Jon couldn’t stop himself from grinning. It was very clear that Sock was pouting, and it was really adorable. He wished he could see Sock’s face.

 

are you pouting

 

**……………..No.**

 

you’re adorable

 

**I will fight you. >:C**

 

nah

i couldn’t possibly fight someone so cute

 

**FUCK OFF.**

**Ugh I gotta go.**

**But this isn’t over. I WILL fight you. >:c**

 

sure you will

 

**Meanie!**

  
Jon laughed, feeling smug. He set his phone down and closed his eyes, feeling sleepy from the heat and the food in his belly. His thoughts were filled with his conversations with Lil and Sock, but he paid attention to neither of them as he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't think of a good way to end this so that's where it ends. Next chapter, more sharing of loads, more gay shenanigans and where is Jon's shirt? (Also sorry for not updating for months, shiz happens)


	5. Chapter 5: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of a 2 part chapter. It's the gay you've all been waiting for! Enjoy~ (Fan art by my dear friend meepsartcorner on Tumblr)

Jon exchanged texts with Sock all through the following week. Every free moment he had was spent sending messages to the weirdo, who, he found, was extremely easy to fluster over text. Jonathan took every opportunity to call Sock cute that he could, and Sock often responded with keysmashes and denial, further proving Jon’s point.

Soon Sunday came. His phone buzzed while he was collecting his dirty laundry, and without hesitation, he picked up, already knowing that it was from Sock.

 

**Hey!** **  
** **I’m gonna bring that replacement shirt today. I think you’ll like it~ :3**

 

oh really  
what did you get me  
a crop top

 

**…Kinda wish I had because I think you’d look fabulous in a crop top. But no, maybe next time~ ;3**

 

Jon smirked and rolled his eyes.

 

pfft

okay so what is it

 

**:3c I can’t tell you cause it’s a surprise!**

 

of course  
well i’ll see you soon

 

**Yeah yeah see you soon tiger~**

 

Jon shook his head a little at Sock’s continued use of flirty pet names. Sometime during the week Jon stopped finding it annoying and instead found it endearing, but still, it was so corny. He stuck his phone in his back pocket and finished shoving his dirty clothes into his laundry bag.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Jonathan walked into the laundromat, sweaty as usual, but it seemed that the air conditioning was working better today than it had been last week. He shuffled to the back, hoping to find someone who knew about a lost and found perhaps. In the back he found a bunch of old Asian women sitting in some kind of office room doing paperwork and chatting in their native tongue over the din of a creaky old desk fan, which swiveled haltingly, and nearly blew pieces of paper off the desk if not weighted down by hands and cups of coffee.

The ladies stopped talking when one of them looked up and noticed him. Jon froze under the blank yet expectant stares and stuttered out some kind of inquiry about a lost and found. One lady pointed with her pen to the bin against the wall behind her that Jon hadn’t even noticed, but he nodded and muttered a thank you and walked over to the bin. The ladies resumed their conversation soon after, ignoring him.

Jon dropped his bag by the bin, knelt beside both, and began rummaging through the few articles of lost clothing, finding a snapback, a pair of moth-eaten boxers, and a couple black shirt that weren’t his. He grumbled to himself and stood up, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder with an annoyed sigh as he left the room.

He plopped his bag down at the nearest washer and sighed, popping his back. He heard the bell as the door opened and glanced up briefly out of habit, but looked away again, his brain not registering anything out of the ordinary at first.

But then his eyes snapped up again, feeling a wave of deja vu pass over him as he really took in the sight of the person approaching. They were wearing sandals and a light pink sundress that was sheer and flowy and lined with a soft looking material. Probably cotton, but Jon wasn’t sure. It looked comfortable as heck in this hot weather though. He was fairly certain that it was Sock. He didn’t know anyone else with fluffy, copper colored hair and a bouncy gait despite the load of clothes they were dragging in a big black body bag.

As soon as they got close enough for Jon to see the bright green eyes and big excited grin, he was certain. He’d never seen Sock in anything else but his multi-layered ensemble, but he guessed it had finally gotten too hot for the little freak to stand it.

“Heeeyyy, hot stuff,” Sock greeted as he got close enough, dropping his bag to the floor. Jonathan cleared his throat, feeling his face get warm. “Um. Hi. They, uh, didn’t have my shirt.”

Sock frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry. I have your replacement in my bag. I hope it fits.”

He stooped down to unzip the body bag, and pulled out another bag with the logo from some store Jonathan barely recognized.

Sock straightened up and held the bag out, bouncing on his feet in excitement. Jon took the bag and pulled a t-shirt from it, dropping the bag on the floor. The t-shirt was black, and when he unfolded it, he saw that there was a grayscale cat print on the front. “Cute,” he commented.

“Put it on,” Sock urged. “Let me see if it fits!”

“Alright. Hold this,” Jon said, holding the shirt out. Once Sock took it from his hands, he stepped back and pulled off the shirt he was currently wearing, dropping it on top of a nearby dryer and taking the shirt back and pulling that on. He straightened out the bottom and brushed his hands down the front, getting a feel for it. The material was a soft cotton, and it was loose enough to be comfortable, but not too big.

“Do you like it?” Sock asked, his face flushed a light pink and eyes wide and anxious.

“Yeah. it’s nice,” Jon answered. “Thank you. It’s not my band shirt but, it’s a nice substitute.”

“It’s not too big?” Sock still looked concerned.

“No, dude. I told you my size, and you got it. It’s a cute design, the material is soft and comfortable. And it’s black, so even if it’s not my tour t-shirt, it’ll be like I never lost it. So you can stop worrying.”

Sock sighed and the smile returned. “Well I’m glad you like it! I really wanted to make it up to you, and I spent a long time trying to find something good enough.”

Jon smiled fondly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did too! You let me buy you something! I had to make sure it was quality!” Sock pointed out, pouting.

Jonathan huffed out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, okay, I guess you kinda did. Thank you, I appreciate the effort.”

“You’re welcome, Jonathan,” Sock said warmly, meeting Jon’s eyes with a smile.

They shared a tender silence for a moment. Then Jon broke it with an awkward cough. “Well, uh, we should be getting to do our laundry.”

“Oh,” Sock sounded a little disappointed, “yeah we probably should. You probably have places to be. And I… well I’ve got nothing. I get weekends off.”

“Well, I don’t really have any place to be… I’m probably just gonna go home, fold my laundry, and listen to music or take a nap.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence followed. Neither of them moved to do their laundry, and instead spent a few moments looking elsewhere. Sock, at his feet, and Jon at his laundry bag.

“Would you… I don’t know… Maybe be interested in coming over to my place sometime?” Sock finally asked, breaking the silence.

Jon looked at him. “And do what?”

“I don’t know. Hang out? You could bring your music, or we can just talk. I have a dog,” Sock offered, shrugging.

“You have a dog?” Jon repeated.

“Yeah! His name’s Silver! I don’t know what breed he is; some kind of mutt. I got him from the pound when I was 10. He’s old now, and kind of a scaredy-cat, but a good boy!” Sock explained, bouncing excitedly. It was clear that he loved talking about his dog. It was adorable.

“You’re cute,” Jon found himself saying.

Sock flushed red at the words. “W-what?” He stammered. “Where did that come from? What did I say?”

“Nothing, you’re just so excited about your dog and it’s adorable,” Jon replied, grinning.

Sock stammered out a sentence of incomprehensible vowels and consonants that sounded like a verbal keysmash, his face getting ever redder, the blush spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. He covered his face with his hands and whined. “Jonathaaaan.”

“What?” Jon asked, his smug tone indicating that he knew damn well _what_. “It’s true!”

“Shut up!” came the muffled response.

“Nah.”

Sock groaned, and Jon laughed. “Awww.”

“Meanie.”

“You’re so cute.”

“I’ll fight you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Jon taunted. “Have you seen how big I am compared to you? I could pin you easily.”

Sock took his hands away and looked up at Jon defiantly, his face still crimson. “Is that a challenge, big boy?” His tone was dangerous and almost seductive, like a snake charming its prey before the strike.

Jon didn’t realize how close they’d gotten to each other until he felt Sock go up on tip-toe to bump his skinny little chest against Jon’s broader one. “It’s a fact,” Jon stated simply. “You could try to pin me, but you would fail.”

“You underestimate my strength,” Sock shot back.

“Oh no, Sock,” Jon replied calmly, gently bumping Sock back so that he stumbled back onto flat feet again, and leaning over so that he was eye level with the shorter person. “It’s you who underestimates mine.”

Sock didn’t say anything for a moment, meeting Jon’s calm, half-lidded gaze with angry determination before throwing back head with a loud. “Ugh, FINE! You win, you asshole!” He crossed his arms and stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. Jonathan laughed and straightened up to his full height. “Alright, now let’s fuckin do our laundry already before someone kicks us out for being disruptive.”

Sock didn’t say anything in response but Jon saw him bend down and begin pulling clothes out of his body bag. Jon did the same, tossing his lights into the washer and dropping his darks into a pile at the foot of the machine. He heard Sock mumble something but didn’t quite catch what it was. “Hm?” he hummed, casting a glance at Sock, who had his colors in the wash. Jon swore he could see the purple mini-skirt in the mix.

“....You wanna share loads again?” Sock repeated a little louder.

Jon stepped back in answer, giving Sock room to toss his lights in, which he did.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Are you still pouting?” Jon asked once their respective washers were running. Sock was sitting on a dryer, slumped over with his elbows resting on his knees, watching his clothes tumble in their soapy entrapment. He didn’t respond, so Jon took it as a yes.

“I was only telling you the truth,” Jon said. “I’m way stronger than you are, and you wouldn’t last a minute against me.”

Sock didn’t answer, but his brows furrowed like he wanted to retort.

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to see you try. I mean, if it would get it out of your system…” Jon trailed off, leaning on a dryer and propping his elbow up to rest his chin in his hand, looking at Sock with a soft grin.

Sock squinted his eyes but kept looking at his clothes. He looked as if the washing machine was offending him with its washing cycle.

“Hey,” Jon said softly. “Look at me.”

Sock turned his head, angry look still on his face.

“You can fight me all you want, but I warn you, I won’t go easy on you just because you’re smaller.”

Sock scowled, lifting a hand and smacking it down next to Jon’s elbow and leaning forward to get in his face. “Don’t you fuckin _dare_ patronize me you jerk!” he hissed. “I know I’m smaller! So obviously I won’t fight fair! Get the fuck out of my face with that ‘I won’t go easy on you’ crap because I sure as fuck won’t tolerate you giving me a handicap.”

“Holy shit dude,” Jon breathed. He wasn’t sure how to react to that. Suddenly, he felt as though maybe he _had_ underestimated Sock a little.

“Not so tough are we now, huh, big guy?” Sock said mockingly, a devilish look of triumph on his face. Never before had the guy looked so attractive to Jon, with his cheeks flushed with rage and his eyes shining dangerously underneath his furrowed brows. And that sort of half sneer, half smile that was setting off warning sirens in Jon’s biological fight or flight response that if he kept up his taunting he probably wouldn’t live to see the next sunrise.

Jon wasn’t sure what happened next. All he knew was that one second he was getting threatened by (what he considered) the hottest person alive, and the next he was making out with said person, not even fully registering what actions his lips and tongue were making until the same person pulled back with a soft gasp.

“Holy shit did you just kiss me?” Sock breathed, all fire and venom gone from his voice and instead replace with incredulous awe.

“Um, uh,” Jon responded intelligently.

“You just kissed me.” Sock answered himself. “And you didn’t _just_ kiss me, you made out with me. That was your tongue. In my mouth.”

“Fuck,” Jon finally managed to say. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sock gently brushed his fingers over his lips.

“I ….wasn’t either if I’m honest,” Jon mumbled. “It… just kind of…. Happened.”

“But you’re the one who kissed _me_ ,” Sock pointed out.

“I know.” Jon said, rubbing his face. “I don’t know what happened. One moment you’re threatening me and I’m honestly fearing for my life and it’s really hot and the next I’m making out with you.”

Sock made a noise that sounded like sandpaper on wood. “You thought that was hot?”

“Dude, shut up. I didn’t think you could ever be intimidating but fuck was I wrong there.”

“Yeah dude,” Sock sounded smug, “you so were.”

“Shut your cute face.”

Sock giggled. “Awww, who’s flustered now?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Jon responded, echoing Sock’s words from earlier with far less venom.

Sock giggled even more, leaning closer. “Or you’ll what?~” he taunted.

Jon purposely didn’t respond this time, inching closer until his lips were barely touching Sock’s, and then he pulled back, hearing Sock whine in response with a smug grin.

“Goddammit Jonathan, stop teasing me!” Sock objected, gently pushing Jon’s face while the asshole laughed. “I told you not to patronize me, dude,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Sock returned. “No, actually, go fuck yourself, you piece of shit!”

“You love me.”

Sock was quiet for a moment as he seemed to genuinely contemplate that statement. “Yeah, actually,” he said after a bit. “I really do.”

“That’s gay.”

“I’m gay!”

They both laughed, and in the silence that followed, they spent that time just sort of looking at each other with the softest smiles on their faces. Then Sock broke the serenity with a mischievous look, and said, “So you think it’s hot when I’m mad and threatening you, huh?”

Jon groaned. “Come on, dude!” he objected, dropping his head into the crook of his elbow.

Sock cackled. “I’m just- Just trying- t-to wrap my head around it,” he said, gasping for air. “I know I’m this tiny- frickin- adorable person. How could I ever be intimidating right?”

“Sock.”

“But! It takes me- It take me being legitimately pissed the fuck off at you- For you to figure out that hey- Maybe you were wrong about underestimating me-”

“Sock please.”

Sock took a deep breath. “This is what really gets me, though. You responded to that by making out with me. Like ‘oh shit, he’s gonna kill me. I’m the most turned on I’ve ever been. I’m gonna kiss him’.”

“ _Sock._ ”

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

Jonathan lifted his head to look at Sock, his face flushed red. “What?”

Sock had the smuggest grin on his face, and his eyes shone with happiness and excitement. “You _like_ me! Like, _like_ like me.”

Jon stared at him for a minute. “What are you, twelve? Just claim that I’m gay as fuck for you like an adult, you weirdo.”

The other guy snorted. “Am I wrong though?”

“......Shut up.”

Sock giggled. Their laundry chose that moment to be finished, so they paused to put their loads in the dryers behind them, and start a new load of jeans and darks. “I gotta know,” Sock started, putting the soap into the slot and closing the little drawer. Jon looked at him and cocked an eyebrow, pushing the start button. The non-binary boy giggled evilly for a moment. “Do you lie awake at night thinking about me?”

Jon sighed and rubbed his face. Sock giggled more. “You do, don’t you!”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.” Jon said, heaving himself up onto the dryer. Sock did the same, scooting to the side until his sundress-clad leg was pressed against Jon’s jean-clad one. “I hope thoughts of me aren’t keeping you up too late. I wouldn’t want you to be tired.”

“You… You fuckin stay up until midnight texting me you dork.”

Sock stuck his tongue out and giggled, nudging Jon with his shoulder. “You’re gay.”

“Yeah well,” Jon nudged him back a little harder, almost knocking Sock over. “That’s partially your fault, you adorable lil shit.”

“Nah, that’s all you, big guy. I’m just existing and being myself.”

“Yeah but you’re adorable, and funny, and damn someone up there must really like me to make me exist at the same time as you.”

He watched as Sock flushed as pink as his sundress at his words, and cover his cheeks with his hands. “Fuck,” Sock whispered. “That’s- That’s so sweet. Cheesy, but-” He moved his hands so they covered his whole face. “Damn, Jon, when did you get so smooth??”

Jonathan laughed. “Around the same time you got so cute.”

“I’m not cute. Fight me.”

Jon wrapped his arm around Sock’s waist, and felt him tense a bit in surprise. “I don’t think I will. I don’t plan on making it a habit to fight cute people.”

“Oh god stop being so fuckin smooth, you fucker.”

Jon leaned in to murmur in Sock’s ear. “Yeah, what are you going to do about it?”

Sock squeaked, dropping his hands to cover his mouth. His face was very red by this point. If it got any redder, there was a very real possibility of Sock passing out. He gave Jon a look, begging for mercy with his eyes. But Jon wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. “I said,” he repeated, his tone getting darker,” what are you going to do about it?”

Sock whined, his look getting more desperate in a ‘if you don’t stop I’m probably going to make some very inappropriate noises so please have mercy’ kind of way. So Jon leaned back and dropped his serious tone and look, giving the poor flustered enby a break. “Alright, you can tell me later~”

Sock wheezed. “For fucks sake Jon, I’m barely keeping myself together. I didn’t know that you could be that-” he broke off to gesture vaguely, but Jon caught his drift. “Yeah, neither did I. Strangely, you’re incredibly easy to fluster, and I was just riding the wave of power that comes with teasing you into submission.”

“....Jon.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit inappropriate to be throwing words like ‘submission’ around in public?”

“What? You’re not an exhibionist?” Jon smirked.

Sock covered his eyes with a hand. “ _Oh my god. I’m gonna kill you,_ ” he groaned.

Jon laughed.

“I’m serious. I already know what knife I’m gonna use, where I’m gonna dump your body. Heck, I’ll even use this thing for its intended purpose.” He pulled his hand away to gesture at the empty body bag on the floor.

Sock sounded pretty serious, but Jon just couldn’t take him seriously. “You won’t kill me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that.” Jon slipped his hand further up Sock’s waist and pulled him closer. “You’d miss me if you killed me. Who would call you cute? Or text you late at night? Or exchange the gayest fuckin banter on laundry day?”

Sock grumbled, hiding his face again.

The dryer buzzed underneath them. And Jon took his hand off Sock’s waist and hopped off. Sock reluctantly did the same, and they took out their clothes, and did what they did last week: sit between the washer and dryer on the floor to sort their clothes. At some point the washers signalled the end of their cycles and they both got up to transfer the clothes.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“You didn’t wash that shirt,” Sock commented after a few minutes of silence. Jon had no clue what he was talking about until he looked down and saw what he was wearing. Whoops. “Eh,” he said. “It’s probably fine.”

“Mmm… I don’t know. You might get a rash.”

“Nah, dude. You ever see a How It’s Made episode? They wash the cotton and the clothes are steam pressed. There’s no chemicals to make something keep its shape.”

“Whatever you say.” Sock didn’t sound convinced. “But if you do get a rash, you owe me ten bucks.”

Jon snorted. “Why?”

“I don’t know. That’s just something I hear a lot at work. There’s a lot of us making bets constantly that someone is wrong. Usually the boss. I’ve made fifty bucks because someone thought Mephistopheles totally wasn’t calling Providence all the time and that he was just a busy guy.”

“Who the fuck is Providence?”

“The CEO of a rival company. And my boss’ crush. He’s constantly calling her to give her updates on something he did that was ‘better than her’ but I think he just wants her attention.”

“....what?”

Sock shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I’ll never understand his logic. He hates her, but he’s also in love with her? And I think they had a thing at one point but he betrayed her and she refuses to speak to him but he keeps trying. He leaves her messages all the time with a call-back number, but guess what, she never does.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I don’t know the whole story, but bits and pieces are gradually revealed the more gossip I overhear from older employees. Meph grew his empire from the ground up after being cast from whatever company he almost sort of co-owned with Prov. But I guess he got greedy. No one knows what happened between them though. No matter who you ask. Even the oldest employees, who were also fired at the time, don’t have any clue.”

“I see.” He really didn’t see. The whole thing was odd and made no sense but he didn’t really care.

Sock shrugged again. “Anyway, ten bucks says you’ll get a rash from not washing that shirt.”

Jon took the challenge. “You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes part 1! This chapter was so very long and I hate to leave you all with that but I'm afraid I've grown too impatient to give y'all a really long chapter with so much plot to digest. Next chapter is supposed to be sweet with a revelation in the beginning. See you all for that one real soon!


	6. Chapter 5: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's part 2! It's a lil shorter than part one, but again, I didn't want to give you guys too much plot.

“So… what now?”

Jon glanced to the side to look at Sock. They were standing at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change and the red hand to change to a white walking man so that they could cross. A light breeze was blowing and Jon watched it move through Sock’s bangs and gently ripple the fabric of his sundress. Sock was staring ahead, looking contemplative. 

“Um… well, I guess I’m going back to my place to fold clothes,” Jon answered after a moment. Sock nodded. “Yeah, I guess I’ll do the same. Usually I kinda just… dump them onto my bed and pick from the pile until it’s gone.”

“I used to do that. Movin out and livin on your own kinda makes you grow up a lil.”

“Pfft, says you. I’ve been living on my own for a few years and I still have the same bad habits.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Sounds like a you problem.”

The light changed, and the signal to cross changed with it. They both began walking, the sound of the body bag scraping against asphalt joining the cacophony of Sunday afternoon traffic. Jonathan thought Sock would leave his company once they reached the other side, but to his surprise, Sock did not. Jon internally shrugged it off, knowing that Sock had mentioned living around the same area. Perhaps he was closer than Jon originally thought. It wasn’t until he turned to walk on the sidewalk leading into the group of two story buildings that he started getting suspicious.

He stopped walking and felt Sock bump into him. “Wh- Jonathan?”

Jon turned around. “Are you following me?” he demanded.

Sock furrowed his brows in confusion. “What are you talking about? I live here!”

“You live here?! I live here!” Jon exclaimed.

“Waitaminute, waitaminute,” Sock dropped the body bag and put his hands up, trying to process what was happening. “You live here? In the same complex?? For how long?”

“Like… I don’t know… six months?” Jon answered. “How long have  _ you _ been living here? And in what building?”

“2 and a half years. How the heck have we never crossed paths before? Have you always done laundry on Sundays?”

“No I used to do it on Saturdays cause that’s the only day I had off but about 4 weeks ago my work schedule changed cause we hired a new person- Anyway you didn’t answer my question, what building are you in?” 

“4D. I used to be in 3C but Silver’s joints got too stiff to be climbing up and down stairs whenever I took him for walks,” Sock explained. “What about you?”

Jon chewed on his bottom lip. “4C,” he eventually muttered. Sock nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to stalk you or anything. If anything, I’ll be able to protect you from shady figures.”

Jon snorted, trying to imagine the tiny ginger trying to fend off a burglar. Sock glared up at him. “Hey, don’t laugh!” Sock objected, “I may not look like a force to be reckoned with but that’s what makes those guys drop their guard!”

“Not gonna lie, dude, you look like the type of person to bring a knife to a gunfight.”

“Fuck you. You don't know me! You don't know what I'm capable of!!”

“You're right, but you have yet to prove that to me, and so far all I've seen is you being a flustered mess.”

Sock made a face that Jon could only describe as an annoyed pout. He bent down to grab his body bag and stalked past Jon, leaning to the side in an effort to body check the taller guy and instead rebounding off of Jon’s bulk. But Sock didn’t let it deter him as he continued to stalk off.  _ Damn, he’s cute when he’s angry, _  Jon thought.

He stopped to pick up the bag he’d dropped sometime during the conversation and started following Sock, his longer legs making strides that helped him cover the distance and catch up to Sock faster than the angry little guy could walk away.

“Hey,” he said, coming up to Sock’s side and matching his pace.

“Go fuck yourself,” Sock hissed, throwing a venomous glare at Jon.

Jon fought a smirk. “Come on, Sock, I was just playing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired of you underestimating me just because I’m smaller and not strong-looking. It gets old real fast,” Sock snapped, increasing his pace, which Jon once again matched easily.

“I’m not underestimating you-”

“Yes you are! Every time I make a comment about an altercation including me and someone else, you give me this condescending look like you can’t  _ believe _ I’d ever be able to take down someone bigger than me.” 

“To be fair, you kinda look like you can’t even fight someone your own size.”

“Guess what asshole, I don’t overpower my enemies, I disembowel them. Literally.”

Jon was quiet for a moment. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”

“Yeah that's nothing new. I could tell you I'm the most serious I've ever been, but you won't believe me anyways, so why bother?”

Sock's tone just seemed to get more and more bitter, and that's what it took for Jon to realize that maybe he should stop being such an asshole. 

“Um, hey…” he started. 

“ _ What _ .” Sock snapped. 

Jon winced. “It's uh… it's clear I upset you and I want apologize. I was just teasing, but uh… I guess I took it too far, huh?”

Sock turned and stopped, causing Jon to almost bowl him over. He staggered back and regained his balance, and breathed deeply. Jon looked down at Sock expectantly. 

Sock crossed his arms, staring at Jon's chest, his brows furrowed. Something told Jon that Sock wasn't seeing him though. 

The ginger stayed like that for a few minutes, while Jon shifted his weight nervously and wiped the sweat off his face, for though they were shaded by trees and the cluster of buildings, it was still pretty hot.

Then Sock moved, his arms uncrossing and moving up. His hands gripped the material of Jon's shirt and before he knew it, the world was spinning and he landed on the hard ground, which knocked the breath out of him.

While he lay there trying to breathe and comprehend what just happened, a foot was pressed to his chest and a smug looking Sock was looking down at him.

“Wh-” Jon tried to say, but he still couldn't breathe and a cough interrupted him. 

“Weren't expecting the small, helpless looking knife bringer to do that now were you, Jonny?” Sock asked, his tone smug. 

Jon wheezed an answer. Sock laughed, stepping off Jon's chest and holding out his hand. “Let this be a lesson to you, okay? Don't underestimate me.”

Jon took his hand, and Sock dug his heels into the ground, heaving Jon up with a grunt. Sock, Jon realized, was right, he  _ is _ a lot stronger than he looks. As if being thrown to the ground by someone half his weight wasn't proof enough. 

Jon brushed himself off once he was upright again. There was a dusty footprint on his shirt that no amount of wiping truly took away, so he made a mental note to get at it with water later. 

When he looked up again, Sock was already fifteen feet ahead, dragging his body bag with a swagger in his step. 

Jon just stared after him for a moment, wondering if he should follow, or go to his apartment. He looked off in the direction of where his place was, when he heard Sock call to him. 

He looked up. The nonbinary boy had stopped and was now beckoning him. “You coming?” Sock called. 

Jon smiled, and started jogging to meet up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this seems like the end but I promise you, it's not! I still have a couple more plot points to cover. Don't worry, it's not going to get angsty in any way, well, not as bad as it could be. Stay tuned!


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth come out: Jonathan is gay for Sock.

Jonathan’s phone vibrated in his pocket just as he was clocking off on break. “Right on time,” he muttered to himself with a smile, grabbing his lunch bag from his messenger bag under the counter, and heading out back behind the 7-11.

He sat on an upturned crate, pulled out his phone to send a quick text before digging into his lunch, a turkey sandwich and some day-old chips his boss was ‘going to throw out anyway, so he might as well take them’.

He’d hardly taken more than a couple bites before his phone buzzed on his lap. He glanced down, picked it up, and slid his finger across the screen to unlock it. 

 

**Hey hot stuff, you on break yet?**

 

yeah just got off

what’s up

 

**Ugh FINALLY! I’ve been dying to tell you about this all day!**

 

Jon smirked, tapping out some snarky reply with one hand as he took another bite. Sock sent a few indignant texts, a couple pouty emojis, and a gif of some kid throwing a tantrum. Jonathan laughed. 

“You’re in a good mood today,” came the voice of Lil as she rounded the corner. She kicked a milk crate over to Jon and sat down with a huff and a sigh.

He glanced over, setting his sandwich down. “I thought you already went to lunch.”

Lil pulled out a cigarette that was tucked behind her ear. “Smoke break.”

“Again?”

Lil shrugged, putting the cig in her mouth and pulling a lighter from her pocket. “Cravings.”

“Last one was 10 minutes ago. Think you might have a problem,” Jon commented, turning his attention back to his phone.

Lil didn’t answer. He heard the flick of the lighter, and a moment later, an exhale. “Who are you texting?” She leaned over, but Jon quickly put his phone to sleep. “N-nobody important.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look of disbelief. “Liar. You’ve been looking down at your phone and smiling all day. Either you’re texting someone important or you’ve lost your damn mind.”

“What? I have not!” There was a silence while Lil shot him another look. “...Have I?” he squeaked.

His purple-haired companion nodded, taking a drag.

Jonathan groaned and rubbed his face with the hand that wasn’t holding his phone.

“So, who are you texting?”

He grumbled for a minute, stalling. “Some guy.”

Another eyebrow raise. “...Some…. guy.”

“Stop doing that. And yes, it’s just a guy I met when I was doing laundry. No one special,” Jonathan snapped, hoping that would get her to stop prying.

Lil stared at him for an uncomfortably long time in complete silence, cigarette forgotten in her hand. Jon’s phone buzzed in his hand, and his screen lit up, but he didn’t dare open the message. He felt like it might prove Lil’s point, and he was nothing if not stubborn to prove someone wrong. It buzzed a second and third time, and he felt his eye twitch. After another few seconds he couldn’t take it anymore and checked his messages. Lil smirked, and took a victory puff.

“I hate you,” Jon muttered after responding to Sock’s triple text.

“Pretty sure that’s a fuckin lie,” Lil responded, sounding smug.

“I’m serious.”

“I think what you really hate is when I’m right. Like I haven’t known you since middle school. Like we haven’t been best friends since we were sophomores. Like I can’t tell when you’re fuckin smitten with ‘some guy’ just by the expressions you make when you answer your texts. Come on, Jonathan.”

Jon grumbled, thick eyebrows knitting together as he started angrily down at his phone. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “Fine, you really want to know?”

“I mean,” Lil put the cancer stick in her mouth and sucked the deathly vapors in, “you don’t  _ have _ to tell me, but yes, some insight to the change in your attitude recently would be nice.”

“Okay, so…” Jon turned on his phone, and tapped a few times, pulling up a selfie Sock had sent him earlier in the week. The ginger was wearing an adorable gray crop top and red mini skirt with black and white striped kneesocks, winking, sticking his tongue out cutely, and doing a peace sign at his reflection in a full length mirror. He had a bit of pudge hanging over the skirt, which Jon had found adorable, and a weird scar half hidden by the crop top just below his sternum. Jon had asked about it but Sock didn’t feel comfortable answering, so he left it alone.

“That’s him?” Lil asked, looking over. 

“Yeah,” Jon replied fondly, handing the phone over.

Lil looked at it for a moment, pinching her fingers over the screen to look at some parts more closely. “This… is a guy?” she asked.

“Well…” Jon hesitated. “Not… exactly? Like, when we met I couldn’t tell his gender bc he was dressed so weird like. Jeans and a skirt and a sweater vest. But when I asked him about it he just said he didn’t feel like he had a gender really, and to just use he/him pronouns?”

“Oh,” Lil answered. “So he’s… nonbinary. Okay. Really cute person, though. Like I wish I could pull off a crop top and miniskirt like this.”

“...Nonbinary?”

“Yeah, like you and I both identify as male or female, right? Those are binary genders. This, um, person clearly stated to you that he doesn’t feel like either, so he’s not binary. Aka nonbinary,” Lil explained.

“Oh, okay. How do you know all that?”

“Tumblr.”   
“Ah.”

“But, and I don’t mean to go on a tangent like this, the concept of nonbinarism has existed for centuries in other cultures outside of Western beliefs, but they don’t teach it in schools which means the only way you’d find out about it is online, so people tend to think it’s an online thing- Anyway, I could get into that and go on for hours but we don’t have that kind of time. How old is he, anyway? He looks 16.”

“Yeah I know, but he swears he’s 20. He called his boss to confirm his age, and I saw his ID. Still can’t tell. He got really upset about it so I think he might be telling the truth. But he’s short, still wears a small in, like, kid clothes, and acts like a flirty 5 year old.”

“I see.”

“And don’t even get me started on how adorable he thinks he is. I mean yeah he’s really cute with a freckled face and bright green eyes and when he gets flustered he can’t form a sentence and his face turns bright red-”

“You’re smitten,” Lil interrupted, looking smug.

Jon sputtered. “What? No, I just- He’s annoying as fuck. He never shuts up. Why would I fall for someone like that?”

“You have… 14 pictures of him on your phone,” Lil pointed out, scrolling through Jon’s photo gallery.

“Hey, he sends me those. That’s got nothing to do with-”

“You chose to save them to your phone. Something tells me you like what you see.”

Jon was getting real tired of Lil’s smug tone, but he was losing this battle. He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“You’re so gay, my guy.”

_ “I am.” _

“Especially since you kept this steamy pic, oh my god.”

“Fuck! Give me that,” Jon panicked, reaching for his phone. Lil held it out of arm’s reach, laughing. “This guy clearly likes and trusts you enough to send you something like this, how have you not started dating yet?”

“Magill!” Jon got up, which made Lil get up and continue to hold his phone away. He tackled her, but she held her ground, dropping her cigarette in the chaos as he wrestled for his phone. After a minute of him struggling, she dropped the phone and laughed as he scrambled after it. His face burned as he picked up his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He turned to yell at Lil for doing that, but she spoke first, cutting him off.

“So, how long did it take to get to that point in your lack of a relationship? I want details,” she said, sitting on her milk crate and patting his empty one. Jon stared at her in silence, debating going back inside and back to work, but his gaze fell on his neglected sandwich, and he sighed. “I have to finish my lunch,” he said.

“Tell me in-between bites, c’mon.”

Jon grunted, not happy, but not in much of a position to resist. He was hesitant to tell her anything for fear of her making fun of him, and she had kinda teased, but he hadn’t seen her interested in anything like this for a while, so why not? He walked over and sat down on his crate, picked up his sandwich, and took a bite.

He chewed for a moment and swallowed. “Okay so, it started about a month ago…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa hey we're a month and 11 days from this fic turning a year old! Thank you for all the support from my friends, those of you who left kudos and sweet comments, the sweet person who made art of that scene in chapter 1, Ink, and of course, Erica Wester, for making such an amazing short film with characters we love. We've got one big chapter coming as a grand finale, so subscribe to the story if you aren't already!


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy early Christmas I guess? I know I promise one long chapter but I'm splitting it in half bc it occurred to me that I hadn't updated since July and we're now halfway through November. It's been a while, I hope y'all didn't lose faith that I would update!
> 
> Summary: It's gay, Jim.

“....so he lays down $200 and meets my eye with a sneer and says he dares me to oppose him. I’m ‘just a tiny squishy assistant to the big boss’ he says, like that was some kind of insult-”

“Oh my god…”

“It gets better.”

Jonathan was lying down on his bed, in only a t-shirt and boxers, having his nightly phone call with Sock, on the one night off the guy had. Sock was reporting on the latest mysterious secret  job gossip that he was apparently allowed to share, and although it would be so much easier for Jon to be at Sock’s apartment having this conversation, Sock maintained that he liked the gesture. Sometimes he wasn’t even at home when it happened, and it felt more routine this way.

“Bets get intense at work, don’t they? Is that legal?”

“Listen, when you’re employed under Mephistopheles, anything goes. Anyway, I meet his gaze and drop a couple hunnies of my own down and prop my elbow on the table.”

“Was the guy new or did he just underestimate the tales of your strength?”

Sock was silent a moment, thinking. “I think both. Newbies are cocky as fuck but this guy, this guy thought I was twice my height and three times my bulk for all he heard about me. Big beefy guy like him? Taking on a tiny twig-like twink like me? Seems laughable, right?”

Jonathan hummed. “I mean, I thought so too until you tossed me over your shoulder like it was nothing.”

“Oh please,” Sock scoffed, “that was a simple martial arts move. You haven’t seen my true strength yet.”

“Hot. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Sock sputtered for a moment. “Shut the fuck up. Stop distracting me!”

“Sorry,” Jon sounded smug, and not at all sorry, “continue.”

“Hmph. So my elbow is propped up on the table and I wiggle my fingers and just grin up at him and this guy growls and mirrors my action and grips my hand hard enough to crush the bones. Like, we get it, you’re strong. Save that energy for the wrestle.”

“Did… did he actually-”

“Yeah… he kinda broke my fingers and sprained my wrist but I still pinned his arm to the table and am $400 richer.”

“Holy shit, Sock, are you okay??” Jonathan sat up on his bed, concerned.

“I’m fine, the company doc set my bones and I have to wear a brace but I’m okay. I’m hopped up on some painkillers so no worries about pain. I’m tough!”

“Dude. I’m coming over.”

“Aw… Jon… that’s not necessary. I’m really fine!”

Jonathan was already pulling on pants and slipping into a pair of sandals from his closet. “I’m coming over and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I could lock the door.”

“Sock.” Jon’s voice was firm and concerned.

“Okay, sorry.” A faint couple of clicks were heard. “I’ll leave them unlocked for you.”

“Well leave the latch drawn. You can’t defend yourself with that injury.”

“Jonathan we’ve been over this, I could have both my hands tied and still disembowel a burglar.”

Jonathan grumbled a response as he left his apartment, locking the door behind him and sticking his keys in his pocket. “I’ll see you in seconds. Bye.”

It was a hot night. Hot and humid and gross and Jonathan was already sweating by the time he reached Sock’s apartment, despite it only being a 2 minute walk from his. He knocked on the door, breathing heavy and wiping sweat off his face.

The door opened, and the familiar click of a latch-string catching the door 2 inches in was heard. Sock poked a single green eye out into the darkness, closed the door, undid the latch, and opened the door back up again.

Jonathan had barely taken a step into the apartment when he froze, looking at Sock’s bedtime attire, which included boy shorts and a familiar looking black t-shirt, which was almost comically large on the non binary boy.

“Is that…. My Valhalla Soundbox shirt?” Jonathan asked. Sock froze, looking panicked, and tried to slam the door and lock it on Jon. But he might as well have tried to slam the door on a charging bull for all the good it did, because when the unstoppable force that was the door met the immovable object that was was Jonathan’s shoulder, Sock (for all his strength) could not get the door shut, and Jonathan forced his way into the abode, muttering “oh no you don’t” and other variations the whole way.

Sock backed up, nearly tripping over his dog, who - despite his age and cowardness - had been attempting a protective stance, more or less. Sock looked about ready to either fight or flee depending on how Jonathan was going to approach the subject, despite the brace and finger casts on his right hand.

The blond put up his hands. “I’m not mad,” he said, calmly. “I’m glad some stranger didn’t steal it or that you or I didn’t accidentally lose it… cause it kinda means a lot to me…. And it sorta bothered me that it just… disappeared… But all this time you’ve been using it as pajamas.”

Sock flushed red and looked guiltily down at the floor.

“That’s….. Kind of adorable actually,” Jon continued, which made Sock flush a darker red that spread down to his one exposed shoulder and made his freckles pop. Sock covered his face and whined into them. “Auuugh I’m sorry!” he said, though it was muffled by his hands. “When you fell asleep at the laundromat I couldn’t help myself! It was too easy. I don’t know why I did it but it smelled like you, and I don’t know… I like you, like a lot, and I wanted to have something that was yours….. But that probably made me look really creepy, huh?” Sock looked up with big watery eyes, like he expected Jonathan to take his shirt back and walk out of the door, and his life.

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. “Welllllll…”

Sock sniffled and rubbed his nose with his other hand. His face was still rather pink with embarrassment, but now it looked like he was fighting tears and it was both a pitiful and adorable sight.

“I’ll admit it might be weird if I haven’t been texting and talking to you for a month. Mostly I just find it kinda cute that you stole my shirt bc you wanted something of mine that smelled like my laundry detergent to sleep in and what… fantasize?”

The redhead’s face burned as he wiped away tears and stuttered out a few words under his breath. Jonathan chuckled, approaching Sock, who stumbled back, eyes widened in slight panic until his back hit the wall (damn this room suddenly felt smaller than usual all of a sudden) and attempted to try to merge with it as Jonathan got closer.

“That’s cute,” Jonathan chuckled more. Sock looked like he was about to pass out, although whether that was from all the blood in his face or his heart hammering against ribcage was anyone’s guess. The ginger whimpered and refused to look Jonathan in the eyes. Silver let out a bark, followed by a whine, and another bark. That one sounded more confident than the first, more like a threat. Sock sucked in a breath, let it out, and cleared his throat. “It’s okay, boy,” he squeaked out, not sounding at all confident.

Jonathan couldn’t see the dog but he felt teeth grip the back of his jean leg fabric and tug with a soft growl.

“Down, Silver,” Sock said firmly, more confident this time. “It’s fine, I’m okay, you’re okay.” He repeated the words soothingly until Jon felt his leg being released. He glanced over his shoulder, just in time to watch the scruffy gray mutt back up a couple steps and then lie down, head and ears perked in watchful stand-by.

“Huh,” Jonathan huffed.

He heard Sock giggle a bit. “What a good boy,” he said fondly. “He’s come so far. He’s still scared of the squirrels that dart in front of him on walks, but he recognized that I was potentially in danger and pulled himself together enough to first give you a warning and then ‘attack’ you when you didn’t respond.”

“He barely pulled on my jeans.”

“He’s getting old,” Sock said dismissively. “Four years ago he would have sank his teeth into your leg and given me enough time to escape.”

The way Sock said that made Jonathan think he lived through a similar experience. He turned his head back to look at Sock, who had stopped trying to become one with the wall and was now looking fondly at his dog. It took a moment for Sock to look back up at him, and notice the questioning look on his face. Sock’s soft smile dropped and his face scrunched up in confusion. “What?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Nothing. Just, the way you said that was weird.”

“Weird how?”  
“Like…. You’ve actually been in a situation where that happened.”  
“Oh. Wellllll,” Sock rubbed at his nose with the hand that wasn’t covered in finger braces. “Maybe it wasn’t the leg, but that guy probably felt that bite for weeks. Or he would have if…. Never mind.”  
“If what?”

“No, never mind, it’s not important,” Sock waved a hand dismissively. “This was a long time ago anyway.”

Jonathan looked like he didn’t want to drop it, but Sock obviously wasn’t gonna share any more, so he reluctantly let the subject fall into the box of “Secrets From Sock’s Past” in his mind, of which there were plenty more things. Stuff he guessed Sock was uncomfortable with sharing with anyone. Or maybe, that kinda knowledge was what got people killed. Sock was incredibly vague about anything surrounding his past, his job, or why he carried his clothes around in a body bag and had weird scars all over his body.

“Earth to Jonathan,” giggled an amused Sock. “Helloooo.”

Jonathan blinked, his eyes focusing on a beaming non-binary boy. “What were ya thinking about?”

Jonathan didn’t even pretend to lie. “You.”

Sock laughed, “Jonathan, your gay is showing.”

“I’m serious,” Jonathan put a hand on the wall over Sock’s head and leaned on it, his face getting slightly closer to Sock’s. “You’re so interesting. There’s so much about you that I don’t know about, or that you won’t share.”

Sock stammered out something that wasn’t entirely a word. He shrank back instinctively, but there was nowhere to go. The pain meds he’d taken for his hand made thinking hard and he was having trouble focusing. And Jonathan was so close.

“Is that…” Sock swallowed. “A bad thing?”

Jonathan smiled. “Not at all. In fact, I really wanna get to know you. All of you.”

“I’m not sure you’re prepared for all of me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I’ve had friends leave because they weren’t prepared to handle it.”

“Maybe I’m different.”  
“Maybe…”

Their faces were really close to each other now. “How would you know unless you let me in?” Jonathan said quietly. Sock sighed, and glanced down. “I can’t… I can’t tonight. There’s too much and I’m…. I’m really tired. The meds…”

Jonathan nodded in understanding and both literally and physically backed off. Sock couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief, feeling the old weight of feeling guilty for hiding things lift slightly, as a new one took its place. But that weight was sleep, and he was finding it hard to stay upright. Almost immediately after Jonathan retreated he was asking Sock if he was okay, and needed help.

Sock didn’t answer, but he hoped he was looking at Jonathan’s general direction with clouded over half lidded eyes, and he hope Jonathan would take that as an answer. Soon he felt a pair of warm strong arms around his considerably colder and somewhat vulnerable body, lifting him up into the air.

“I can’t believe you pushed yourself this far,” he thought he heard Jonathan mutter.

“Well….” Sock mumbled, cradling his injured hand in his other one, and nuzzling into Jonathan’s chest. “You be… surprised….. how much…. talking to you…. keeps me…. awake.”

Sock really sounded like he was struggling to stay awake now and Jon found it completely adorable.

“I’d imagine it has something to do with your heart trying to leave the confines of your ribs,” Jonathan replied, walking down the hall to Sock’s room.

“...Shut up.”

Jonathan laughed, and Sock felt the vibrations of it in Jon’s chest rather than in his ears.

 

It didn’t take long for Jon to reach Sock’s dark and considerably messy room. Jonathan squinted into the darkness. “Geez, could it have killed you to turn on a light in here?”

Sock giggled, but didn’t answer.

“I don’t even know where the bed is.”

Sock managed something quietly that Jonathan thought sounded like “You’ll know it when you trip over it” and Jonathan didn’t think it was possible for Sock to be more of a little shit in his half awake state, but he was and that was frustrating.

“If I trip over it, and land on you and break something, I’m not paying the medical bills.”

Sock shifted in his arms and sighed. “There’s a switch on the wall next to you. It’s a dimmer.” His voice was faint as if he was fading from reality, and honestly the description could not have been more accurate to his current state of consciousness. Jonathan shifted and bumped his shoulder against the wall. Eventually his arm hit a knob and the light shifted from dark to half lit, but it was enough for Jonathan to see where he was going.

He was at least happy to find that Sock’s bed was _not_ in the middle of the floor and instead pushed up into a corner and loosely covered by a blanket, while bits of clothing and material possessions were strewn about the room. What salary was Sock on that he could afford any of this shit? And where could Jonathan get in on some of that action?

He kicked stuff out of his way on his journey across the small room to set Sock down on the bed. He pulled the blanket out from underneath Sock and straightened it as he pulled it over the little freak, but as he turned to leave Sock’s uninjured hand shot out and grabbed his arm with amazing strength for someone who was barely conscious.

“Stay with me?” Sock asked sleepily.

 _Uh-oh._ “I don’t- I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sock.”

_“Please?”_

_Shit._ “There’s no room for me on the bed.”

“Quitter’s talk.” Sock scooched closer to the edge, his grip never loosening. Jonathan had nowhere to go and he was out of excuses. He couldn’t say no. His eyes flicked to the bit of space he could fit into if…

He sucked in a breath. “Okay.”  
“Okay?”

“Yeah, just let me go lock the door, and turn off all the lights.”

Sock’s grip still didn’t relinquish. “You promise?” he asked softly.

“I promise.”

The hand let go of his arm, and slithered back underneath the covers. “If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass.”

Jon snorted. “Sure,”  and walked out of the room.

 

When Jonathan returned, Sock was already asleep, head buried under the covers with only a tuft of auburn hair poking out, but one foot out in defiance against the heat under the covers. _Cute._ Jonathan turned down the dimmer enough that he could see to get to the bed without tripping over anything, but not enough that it would be hard to fall asleep otherwise, and shuffled across the room, taking his jeans off as he went and stepping out of them to crawl over Sock without disturbing the sleeping boy.

Sock moved a little bit when Jonathan was getting settled under the covers, and made a soft sound that made Jon’s heart rate go up. _Dammit, that’s not fair, he’s not allowed to be this cute, not in his sleep, how fuckin dare he?_

The bed was small, _and_ his back was already against the wall, **_and_ ** he already knew that there wasn’t anyway around it, he was going to have to wrap his arms around Sock so he wouldn’t fall off the bed in the middle of the night and potentially hurt something else. Dammit why did he agree to this?

He was content to internally grumble to himself that this had all been a part of Sock’s master plan as he slipped his arms around Sock’s torso and heaved a sigh. Well, at least he was comfortable. The room was cool and the blanket was light enough and Sock didn’t produce as much body heat as a normal person so at least Jonathan wasn’t sweating. It was nice. And Sock was soft, and less bony than Jon originally thought. His conversation with Lil a few weeks ago echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t help thinking that this was one of the things she could have been talking about. Except for one thing…

They weren’t dating.

Jonathan wasn’t entirely sure how to approach the subject. He still didn’t know whether or not Sock wanted that from him, or to be eternally flirting with each other back and forth through calls and texts and in real life. Sock never made any mention of it, and always seemed to be expecting Jonathan to just decide knowing him wasn’t worth the hassle, and leave. He’d always said friends left him, but did lovers or potential significant others also fall into that category? Jon didn’t know. Sock spoke about it like it physically pained him, and he was afraid to push the boundaries.

But, _damn,_ it wasn’t like Jonathan could read Sock’s mind! Sure, the little freak was an open book with his emotions, but when those were conflicted it was _so hard to read him!_ Jonathan huffed out an annoyed sigh. Sock stretched in his sleep, wiggling in Jonathan’s grip, and settled back against Jon’s chest with a sigh of contentment.

Goddammit it was gonna be a long night.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Jonathan didn’t know how he’d managed to sleep some of the night while cuddling a soft non-binary boy who was _very_ adorable in his sleep, but he knew he must have at some point when he woke up the next morning, arms empty of said enby. The room was unchanged and for a moment Jonathan panicked, thinking this was all a dream or some weird nightmare. He scrambled to sit up, flinging the blanket off. Sock wasn’t there. _Was_ it all a dream? Was he still dreaming?

He sat on the edge of the bed and called out Sock’s name, grimacing at how gravelly and gross his voice was. He needed a glass of water, and maybe some coffee, stat.

Sock responded from somewhere in the apartment, sounding bright and cheery for…. Whatever time it was. Jonathan didn’t actually know. He stood up, noticing his pants on the floor but not really bothering with them as he followed the voice to the tiny little kitchen/dining room area, where he found Sock eating a bowl of Cheerios.

Sock shoved a spoonful of cereal into his face just as Jonathan rounded the corner. With his mouth too busy to say good morning, his just waved with the hand that held the spoon as he chewed and eventually, swallowed.

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” he asked when his mouth was free.

“Okay I guess.”

“That’s good. You’re welcome to eat with me if you wanna. I’ve only been awake for a few minutes before you, but I decided to let you sleep. You look like you needed it.”

Jonathan grunted, and entered the kitchen, opening cabinets looking for bowls. Sock didn’t have a whole lot of anything, no surprise, but he did find one other bowl and some spoons in a drawer, and half a carton of milk in the fridge. He sat down on the opposite side of Sock and poured himself a bowl in silence, and from then on the only sounds that could be heard was the clink of spoons against the bottom of bowls, and faint sounds of crunching. Jonathan was amazed that Sock was this quiet at all, but he wasn’t complaining.

Sock finished way before he did, which was also not surprising, considering who had gotten up first, but after setting his spoon down in the bowl, he made no move to get up. He just set his injured hand on the table and stared at it, cheek resting on the other hand propped up on the table, tapping a single finger brace against the polished wood.

The tapping wasn’t particularly annoying, but Jon also couldn’t help but focus on it while he ate. He glanced at Sock a few times, but the ginger looked miles away in his own head, so he said nothing.

A few minutes of that passed and Jonathan had just stuck a somewhat large spoonful of cereal into his mouth when Sock finally spoke, and the words caught him so off guard he ended up inhaling half of what was in his mouth into his lungs. He coughed and gagged and swallowed whatever was left, half chewed or not and it painfully scraped his throat as it went down. “What?” he rasped, not sure he’d heard correctly.

“I said, are you gonna ask me out, or what?” Sock repeated, speaking slowly but firmly, punctuating each word clearly, but with that kind of long meditated annoyance of someone who’d long been dealing with someone else who clearly couldn’t take a hint, and it kinda stung.

“Uh…”

“Oh no,” Sock said sarcastically, with a dismissive wave of a hand. “Take all the time you need to answer. Not like you haven’t taken enough time already.”

“Hey now,” Jonathan warned, pointing his spoon at Sock. “That’s unfair.”

Sock threw up his arms. “So is waking up to you cuddling the shit out of me!”

“What other option did I have? You wouldn’t let me leave, the bed was tiny, and I didn’t want you falling off in the middle of the night!”

“Aw Jonathan,” Sock batted his eyelashes, “You _do_ care!~”

Jonathan felt his face get warm. He grumbled and looked away while Sock giggled. “I mean,” Sock continued, “it’s not like I minded that you were, but how much longer are we gonna do this dance? Make a move already!”

“I had no idea you wanted me to ask you out.”

“....Really?” Sock sounded unimpressed.

“Yes, really.”

“Come on, Jonathan, you can’t possibly be _that_ dense.”

“The answer may surprise you.”

“Wow.” Sock laughed. “So you’re telling me that after all this time of me talking, texting, calling, flirting, offering to do things for you and dressing nicely that you had _no idea_ I was interested?”

“No I knew you were interested but you acted kinda like you wanted no strings attached.”

Sock rolled his eyes. “At what point did I ever seem that aloof? I was practically salivating over you!”

“No offense but you flirt in a way that frustrates me because it’s equal parts sexual and equal parts aloof. Like you want to be sincere but you’re not because you think it’s funny.”

“It is funny, but I’m always serious, you just think I’m not.”  
“Gee I wonder why.”

Sock made a pouty face and stuck out his tongue while Jonathan laughed. “It’s not my fault you think I’m lying.”

“Sure it is, who can take you seriously with that devilishly cute face?”

“Wow, gay.” Sock smirked.

“This may come as a surprise, but I’m anything but straight.”

“Oh same!”

They both giggled at each other like a couple of dorks. It was so ridiculously easy to talk to each other, exchanging witty remarks and always ending on a flirtatious note. They both had it really bad for each other, and Jonathan felt kinda dumb that he’d put it off this long.

“So,” he said after the laughter faded to silence for a moment.

Sock rested his chin on the back of his hand, and raised an eyebrow.

“You took something of mine, and you’ve been wearing it…”

“Oh,” Sock looked worried, but Jonathan didn’t give him time to dwell on the feeling.

“Yeah. So I think perhaps I should do the same.”

Sock blinked at him for a moment with a blank expression on his face. “You mean like, wear something of mine? In exchange for the shirt?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh,” Sock repeated, but with a contemplative tone. “Well… that’s kinda hard…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, have you seen me?” Sock gestured to himself. “I’m tiny.” He picked at the VS shirt. “This is huge on me. No article of clothing I own is gonna fit you.”

He had a point. Jonathan hummed. “So what if it’s not clothing?”

“I don’t know what I’ve got accessory wise but I can see….”

“Okay.”

There was a silence. Jonathan looked down at his soggy forgotten cereal, and stood up, picking up both his and Sock’s bowl to take to the kitchen. He washed the dishes for lack of anything better to do, and very briefly caught sight of Sock walked past the kitchen to his bedroom.

Jonathan set the clean dishes in the dish rack near the sink to dry, and followed him back into the bedroom. He found Sock standing in front of his closet, just staring at it. Jon left him to it and went to put on his pants.

“Hey,” Sock said suddenly, startling him a bit.

“Yeah?” Jonathan looked at Sock, but the enby hadn’t moved.

“Do you have work today?”

Jonathan zipped up his pants and buttoned them. “No.”

“Do you wanna go somewhere today?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna go home and change.”

“Okay,” Sock repeated with a little more enthusiasm.

“I’ll meet you outside,” Jonathan said, walking out of the room.

“See you soon!”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

It was 10am on a Wednesday in late July and it was still hot as hell when Jonathan stepped out of his apartment, dressed in his gray Valhalla Soundbox shirt, a pair of jeans and his green converse. It hadn’t taken too long for him to get ready, but he didn’t doubt that Sock was probably still standing in front of his closet where Jon had left him. Suffice it to say he was a little surprised to find Sock approaching him only a few minutes after, dressed in another adorable sundress sort of garment, red in color, seeming just as light and flowy as the last. As Sock got closer. Jonathan could see more detail, a yellow star in the middle of a burgundy band around the waist. Jonathan thought he'd seen the design before somewhere, he just couldn't place it. Sock's hair seemed deceivingly tame and pinned back by a single star hairclip that matched the one on his dress.

“Cute,” Jonathan commented when Sock was within earshot. Sock blushed, and twirled on his feet, giving Jonathan a decent eyeful of his bare shoulder blades, and a few weird, but tiny, white scars. The skirt twirled and swayed even when Sock stopped moving.

“Wow. Backless,” was all Jonathan could say. Sock giggled. “ I made it myself," he said proudly. "You like?” The blond nodded. “A lot.”

Sock smiled demurely and took his hand. “C’mon, you look like you need coffee.”

Jonathan brightened at thought of caffeine. “Oh god yes please.”

The enby laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ready for the actual last chapter? No? Me neither, and I gotta write it. Hope you enjoyed this one, and I'll see you for the last one!


	9. Chapter 8 (End)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is the final chapter of this story, but it's far from the end of Sock's story. Read and enjoy for some closure, and some much needed character development, but be pulled in by the mystery of Sock's past at the end.

After twisting through some alleyway “shortcuts” to get to the place Sock was leading them to, they came upon a very out of the way indie coffee shop that didn’t even look like it was open at first glance. Even when they walked inside, it was mostly empty except for a few patrons, and gave Jonathan some very weird vibes.

A green-haired, androgynous looking person with light brown skin, tattoos covering each arm, and any manner of facial piercings was leaning over the counter, looking at their phone with a bored expression. They flicked their hazel eyes up when the bell over the door jingled, and quickly straightened up, shoving their phone in their pocket with a guilty expression on their face. “You didn’t see anything,” they said quickly. And in an even quieter voice, “Don’t tell the boss.”

“Hello to you too, Nix,” Sock responded, letting go of Jon’s hand and skipping up to the counter. He stood up on tip toe to be eye level with the taller androgyne. “And I see _everything_. But don’t worry, I won’t tell Meph you’ve been slacking on the job, _again_. Not like he doesn’t already know.”

Nix laughed mirthfully. “Fuck, I know right? He has eyes everywhere.” Nix glanced down and nodded at Sock’s injury. “How’s your hand?”

Sock gingerly held his wrist with his other hand. “Fine right now. Hurts sometimes when the pain meds wear off.”

Nix grunted and looked past Sock to Jonathan, who was looking bewildered by all of this. “And who’s this? Your boyfriend?”

Sock flushed pink and sputtered. “No! Well not yet... Shut up! His name’s Jonathan, and he wants coffee.”

“Does he now?”

Jonathan cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, can we not talk about me like I’m not here?”

Sock turned around, giggling, “Heh, sorry. This is Nix, someone I know from work. My other work, I mean. Same boss, different places. This is one of those places he owns.”

“‘Someone’. Sheesh Sock, I thought we were tighter than that. I’m the one who’s known you the longest,” Nix pretended to be offended.

“Len would like to argue-”

“-That we met you at the exact same time, I know. Humor me, would’ya?”

Sock shrugged. “You know what I like.” He nodded to Jonathan. “Order whatever you want, it all goes on my tab.”

“Is this a coffee shop or a bar?” Jonathan muttered under his breath as he stepped up to the counter.

“Yes,” answered Sock and Nix in perfect unison.

Jonathan didn’t say anything for a moment, just looking between the two in silence, blinking. Then he took a breath and prepared to order the most basic coffee option available. “Okay so-” but was cut off by Nix thrusting a hand out to Jon, face hard yet neutral. Militaristic? Deathly? Jonathan didn't think it was even possible for someone to have more of a “resting murder face” than he already possessed, but Nix sure as fuck did.

Jonathan hesitantly took the hand, which crushed his in painful death grip that caused him to gasp, and then released. “The name's Nix,” Nix stated, snapping the hand back to jut a thumb to their chest in introduction. “Nix means nothing. As far as the government knows, I don't exist, and as far as the government’s decided, I will never exist. So I don't use pronouns. Don't refer to me as anything but: Nix, Nada, Zero. Big goose egg. Void. Got that?” Nix poked Jonathan so hard in the chest that he stumbled backwards, dazed. He opened his mouth and closed it again, and nodded.

“Good. Now what’ll it be?” Nix leaned on the counter with a smirk, as if the strangely threatening intro monologue had never occurred.

“Um,” Jonathan said, looking over Nix’s head at the menu.

He was momentarily distracted by a movement to his left. A blond guy with hair like Johnny Test and thick rimmed nerd glasses setting an iced cup of _something_ down, which Sock went to retrieve. He engaged in quiet conversation with the blond guy, who was staring at Jonathan expectantly but still responding to Sock.

Fingers snapped in his face, startling him but bringing him back to the attention of the viridian haired androgyne. “Hey, you gonna order or what?” Nix demanded, clearly impatient, very much looking like they wanted to gut him for wasting time.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” Jonathan rubbed his face. “Just get me whatever is high in caffeine, no sugar, lil bit of cream.”

“Hot or iced?”

“Iced, pleased.”

The blond guy had his order by the pick up section of the counter before Jon had time to blink. Sheesh, a barely busy Starbucks had nothing on this guy. Jon wondered if barista Olympics existed. If they did, the blond guy would win first place.

Jonathan picked up his drink with a quiet thanks, and was met with a nod from the guy, who went and disappeared behind the counter. Jon didn't even have time to process how before Sock was waving at him to follow, and he did so, following the enby past some tables and around a corner to a secluded booth behind a wall that seemed like it was a part of the entire wall, but that was only an illusion.

When Sock sat down and looked up and saw Jonathan’s questioning gaze around the area, he explained. “Sometimes my boss has meetings here in this booth. No one can hear us, and no one will bother us. Many of the regulars don’t even know it’s here.”

“Uh huh,” Jonathan replied, sitting in the seat across from Sock. “So what was that all about?”

“What d’ya mean?”

Jon jabbed his thumb back, referring to the exchange with the androgyne. Sock’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh. Well,” Sock took a sip of his drink. “That’s just how Nix is. Nix gives that speech to anyone who matters, or who Nix will probably meet again, or something.”

“No pronouns?”

“Nope. Which is kinda hard at first and sort of repetitive, but the last person who tried to apply whatever pronouns they wanted to Nix was never heard from again. Nix is kinda okay with ‘they/them’ on occasion or if Nix hasn’t properly introduced themself, or when it’s literally- literary- lit-er-ar-ily required.” Sock huffed at himself. “But for the most part, treat Nix like Nix wants. No pronouns, don’t refer to Nix.”

Jonathan. “I see what you mean about repetitive.”

Sock shrugged. “Do _you_ want to risk being eliminated off the face of the Earth because _you_ think saying Nix’s name two times a sentence sounds bad?”

“No.”

Sock smiled and took a drink.

“I’m actually kinda curious about that, actually.”

“About what?”

“You use male pronouns even though you’re not, y’know…” Jonathan gestured vaguely.

“....a guy?” Sock finished for him. Jonathan nodded, “No offense.”

“None taken. And it’s actually very simple. I’d rather people think of me as a guy than a girl. I mean, I mostly would prefer that they don’t put me in a binary at all, but because we live in a society where most people tend to do that, I’d rather they think of me as male first.”

“But you, and again, no offense. You wear a lot of… y’know,” he gestured to Sock’s dress, “feminine clothing.”

Sock looked Jonathan in the eyes. “I’m at peace with my gender and gender presentation and if someone doesn’t like it, they can go fuck themselves. I look cute in everything, and someone else’s preconceived notions about what gender and gender presentation is can and will _end at the hands of Nix._ ”

There was a silence while Jonathan processed that. And then he said: “...Are- Are you saying Nix has killed the people who misgendered you?”

Again, Sock only smiled and took a long sip of his drink.

Jonathan couldn’t help but piece together that ominous threats, along with shady bets, seemed to also run in the workplace. It made the whole thing sound like some kind of mafia.

Jonathan cleared his throat awkwardly and took a sip of his coffee. “So um, what’d you order?”

“Chai latte with heavy cream and sugar,” Sock answered simply. Jonathan made a face imagining how grossly sweet and creamy that was, but Sock looked like he was in heaven with every sip.

“And let me guess what the bitter boy got: black coffee, no cream, no sugar.”

“Wow, _excuse me_ for not wanting a lil bit of coffee to go with my cream and sugar!” Jonathan objected, his tone heavily sarcastic.

Sock giggled hysterically.

“And for the record, there’s a lil bit of cream n sugar in here, so ha!”

Sock giggled and snorted. He slapped a hand over his mouth in horror after realizing what noise he made but it was too late. Jonathan was already teasing him and calling him cute, which made him flustered and red as his dress. Jonathan leaned back against the faux leather seat cushions and sipped his coffee, looking smug as hell. Sock pouted, sipping his chai latte and refusing to look at him.

“So…” Jonathan said after a moment of watching Sock pout. “Why are we here, other than to caffeinate ourselves?”

Sock swallowed a mouthful of latte. “You were going to ask me out and I was going to give you something to wear in exchange for the shirt I took.”

“Ah, of course. So, what do you have for me?”

“Ask me out first.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, “Seriously?”

“Goddammit Jonathan, yes! For fuck’s sake, we’ve been over this-”

“Alright, alright, I know, calm down, I was joking.” Jonathan put his hands up in surrender. “Do you want to date me?”

“Yes! Finally!” Sock sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes. But he smiled, and Jon couldn’t help but smile back.

They shared the tender moment for a while, then Jonathan broke it with “okay, now the thing in exchange for my shirt.”

Sock groaned. He reached his uninjured hand up to his star clip and pulled it out, which made his bangs bounce back into their spot. He placed the clip on the table. “There. It’s too hot for me to give you, say, my scarf. And I don’t really have anything else that fits you so…”

“It’s perfect.”

Sock stammered. “It’s- What?”

Jonathan picked it up. “I like it. It’s cute. And so simple. I almost expected you to give me a ring.”

The enby flushed pink. “I… I almost did...”

Jon paused in the middle of clipping his own bangs back. “Wait… what?”

Sock didn’t say anything, his face going redder. He pursed his lips to suck his straw into his mouth, using his drink as an excuse not to reply.

“No, hold on, you can’t just say something like that and not say anything else!”

Sock glanced away, blush spreading to the tips of his ears and to his shoulders. He pulled his mouth off the straw and sighed, swallowing. “I.. Okay, so,” he used his uninjured hand to push his hair out of his face. “A few years ago, my boss and adoptive dad? Was locked in a custody battle with my birth parents, and there's a long story that comes with that and I can't get into it right now, but long story short, they lost. And as an apology gift, I guess, my mom gave me my grandma's wedding ring. My family is kind of rich, and this ring cost like 30K.”

Jonathan's eyes widened.

Sock nodded. “Yeah, kind of a lot of money, right? You barely let me buy you a $15 shirt, no way were you going to take this expensive ring! So I decided on the clip instead. It's cheap, I could buy more, but it was a part of my _thing_. I'm always wearing something that has a star on it, so, now you have a thing of importance to me, and I have something of importance to you. We're even.”

Jonathan looked down at the clip in his hand. $30,000 for a wedding ring! That's so much money! That's what he makes at his job in a year, and he hasn't even _seen_ his own bank account rise above maybe $500 in savings. Sock's over here making bank and talking about this ring like it's nothing to him. Which begs the question…

“Why don’t you sell it? You talk about it like it doesn't matter to you, why keep it around?” Jonathan asked.

Sock shrugged. “I wanted to. It made sense to. I didn't think I was ever going to get married, I didn't particularly _want_ to keep anything that connected me to my family, and I hate the feeling of rings on my fingers. I just can't stand it. I fidget with them too much and it chafes my fingers. So yeah, I wanted to sell it.”

He rests his injured hand in his other one in the table, rubbing the patches of skin not bandaged by the casts. “I didn't know my grandma. She died before I was born. But she married my grandpa, who was part of a rich family and he really loved her for herself, not her status. Even after she died, he didn't try to find a girlfriend or any other companion, saying he was waiting to join her. And, that's what made the ring stop being an object of money, but an object of love. So, maybe it's silly, but I kinda kept it around as a good luck charm.” Sock looked up and smiled. “Maybe I'd find someone like that for me!”

Jonathan smiled back, putting his hand up to clip back a lock of hair and reaching his hands out to cup Sock’s in his. “I think it's cute. And kinda funny that you almost proposed to me not even a minute after I just asked you out.”

Sock blushed such a heavy red, Jon was afraid the enby might actually pass out, and he laughed in response to Sock's flustered state.

“Oh God, I _did_ almost do that didn't I?” Sock groaned, hanging his head so that his hair hid his face in his embarrassment.

“Yeah,” Jonathan smirks. “You really almost did.”

“Fuck, I'm gonna go die of embarrassment now, excuse me,” Sick said, getting up to dramatically emphasize his point, but Jonathan held him back by his uninjured hand.

“No, stay, I was just teasing,” Jonathan said, grinning.

Sock looked at the exit in the wall like he wanted to flee but Jonathan didn't let go so he sighed and sat back down. Jonathan didn't let go of his hand until he was sure Sock wasn't going to abscond. Sock huffed and sucked down his latte with embarrassed determination that Jonathan found adorable. But let's face it, anything Sock did was adorable to him. He was just that smitten.

They drank in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. Sock gradually lost the grumpy look, and a soft smile spread across his face, accompanied by a light blush.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Jonathan asked.

Sock flushed pinker. “Nothing. I was just wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

“If you… would ever consider, um,” Sock's face was bright pink by this point. “Like… I know it's probably a bit soon to ask this but like…”

Jonathan waited patiently for Sock to explain with an attentive and intrigued look, blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Ugh, I'll just- What are your thoughts on getting married? Since the topic came up I can't stop thinking about it! And I'm curious…” Sock huffed.

Both of Jon's eyebrows raised up and then furrowed in thought, and he hummed, thinking. “Well first of all, I could never afford it. It's expensive and too much fuss and I just couldn't afford it. And I'm thinking, would it even happen in a church? I'm not religious, and I sure as fuck don't believe in God so that would be awkward.”

“What if you didn't have to pay for it or worry about an ordained minister being religious about it?” Sock asked.

“Then I guess, sure, but it would have to be with someone I love and _want_ to spend the rest of my life with, who has lived in the same space as me for long enough for me to gauge their character and personality in all scenarios, how they deal with things, if they clean up after themselves. That sort of thing.” Jonathan took a sip of his coffee. “Why?”

Sock hesitated. “Like I said, probably too soon for this, but would you ever consider taking the ring if we were gonna get married?”

Jonathan leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face. “I mean, probably? I'd rather take it slow for now. We can talk about that at a later time, okay?”

Sock smiled.

“Okay.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Oof, that looks heavy, you sure you don't want _me_ to do it?” Sock teased. He was sitting on top of the washing machine, watching his boyfriend use a dolly to angle the dryer into the space next to it.

It was a few months later, and they were currently in the process of moving in to their new apartment together. This one allowed for a washer and dryer, so they didn't have to spend any more precious quarters at the laundromat once a week.

Jonathan's panting and grunting and sweating up a storm despite the mild late fall weather, but he managed to shoot Sock a glare. “This- ugh! This thing weighs about four times as much as you do!” he said, grunting with effort.

Sock giggled. “Yeah? I can lift that no problem! You're just weak.”

Jonathan ignored him, and with a final grunt of effort, got the dryer into the space next to the washer and huffed out a long sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow. “This better be worth the hassle,” he grumbled.

“What’s worth more than keeping the 20 quarters a week we aren’t spending?” Sock answered, hopping off the washer and walking past Jonathan to exit the small laundry room. “You look like you could use a cold glass of water after all that heavy lifting.”

“Yes please,” Jonathan huffed.

Sock got him his drink which Jonathan nearly chugged as soon as he got it. Sock smiled, and turned around to go put away the rest of the stuff in their boxes. Most of it was Sock’s, though he _did_ get rid of a lot of clothes he didn’t wear as much before the move. With every trinket he took out and put on a shelf, this empty apartment was starting to look more like a home, and it made him feel warm inside.

“Hey,” Jonathan said, coming over to join him. “Lil’s coming over later, after we’ve finished unpacking, to see our new place.”

Sock tossed the empty box over to the ever growing pile of empty boxes in the corner of the room. “Nice!” he said.

“And she’s bringing over Jojo, her girlfriend.”

The ginger groaned. “Not as nice,” he grumbled.

Jonathan took Sock’s hand. “Hey, I know you don’t like her, but you have to be nice.”

Sock looked at him like Jon was stupid, and reached for another box. “Liking her isn’t the problem. Not that she’s easy to like anyway, but we have history. History I don’t like to bring up and that I’ve been avoiding her very specifically for. And she likes to blab about things I’d rather people didn’t know. I don’t know how she managed to end up in the same city as me, but-” Sock looked around for the box cutter, but upon not finding it, reached into his jacket pocket for his pocket knife. “Avoiding her has been getting harder since we started dating. How the fuck was I supposed to know you worked with her girlfriend? And were friends?”

He cut into the tape with more force than he meant to, out of frustration. “I just… I’m not ready to talk about some of the stuff she knows about. Seeing her is gonna bring up bad memories…”

Jonathan reached out to take the knife from Sock’s hands before he started stabbing the box. “It’s okay. If it makes you feel better, Lil’s probably giving her the same talk right now. About being nice, I mean. Just, try not to kill her. I don’t want to have to confiscate all your sharp things but Sock,” he put his hand on Sock’s face and tilted it over to look at him, “I won’t hesitate to if you start sporting that look you do when you’re planning someone’s murder.”

Sock flushed in embarrassment and averted his eyes. “Okay, okay, I won’t. I just… I haven’t seen her in years, and I’m not ready to see her now.”

“Understandable, but you still have to.” Jonathan leaned over to plant a kiss on Sock’s forehead. “Now I’m gonna go put away all the plates and silverware and when I’m done I expect to see a smile on that face, okay?” he said, patting Sock’s cheek and heading off towards the kitchen. Sock stuck his tongue out at Jonathan’s retreating form and pouted. He wasn’t looking forward to later today.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A knock interrupted Sock’s cookie baking/keeping Jonathan from eating all the cookie batter, which prompted the enby to nudge the blonde in the direction of the door. Jonathan grumbled, trying to sneak a finger full of dough but Sock slapped his hand, so he retreated like a dog with his tail between his legs to open the door and Sock resumed rolling the dough into balls and putting them on the cookie sheet.

Jonathan opened the door to Lil, who was dressed in a warm looking trench coat, leggings and boots. Next to her was a somewhat short and freckled blonde girl with fiery brown eyes, her hair in twin braids, hood of her jacket up against the cold. They were holding hands. “Hey,” Jonathan greeted, smiling. Lil smiled back, and moved to walk in. Jonathan stepped back until both girls were inside and closed the door behind them.

“Ugh, it’s so cold outside,” Jojo complained, putting her hood down and moving to unzip the jacket.

“And who’s fault was it to wear a light jacket instead of something a bit heavier like I suggested?” Lil responded with a smirk, removing her trenchcoat to show a pretty black top and red flannel skirt underneath.

Jojo stuck her tongue out. “Oh shut up, it’s only the middle of November, the weather has no business being this cold!”

Lil shook her head, hanging her coat up on the rack near the door. “When did you think it was going to be cold? The start of December? Winter is coming, Joane, whether you protect yourself against the elements or not.”

Jojo huffed, walking to the rack to hang up her jacket. She was wearing an orange sweater top that was rolled up at the sleeves, and jeans, looking every bit the futch lesbian she was. Lil leaned down to kiss the stop of her girlfriend’s head, which made the freckled girl blush.

“Sock’s making cookies right now, but he should be out in a minute, _right?!_ ” he called in the direction of the kitchen, but was met with silence. “Right, Sock?” he tried again, but still nothing. He sighed.

“It’s because of me,” Jojo said, bitterly, crossing her arms. “He’s been avoiding me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Sowachowski! You can’t avoid me forever, we have to talk sometime!”

“...How about we don’t?” Sock called back. “How about you just leave? Pretend we talked, and then _never_ come here again?”

“Sock…” Jonathan said with a warning tone. He heard a quiet sigh and Sock stepped around the bend, brushing his hands off on his apron. He looked at Jojo nervously. “Just… Can we wait to talk about this? There are some things I’m still not comfortable talking about even though it’s been years. Don’t share what I’m not ready to share, okay?”

Jojo looked him up and down with a cold expression, chewing her lip. “Fine,” she said flatly, turning to go sit on the couch. Lil looked at the both of them with an apologetic look. “Do you mind if I take a look around?” she asked quietly.

Jonathan shook his head. “Sure, go ahead.” Sock nodded, then went back to tend to his cookies.

Lil nodded and started wandering around, looking at everything. Jojo stayed where she was on the couching, watching Lil walk around. “It’s a lot more spacious than your last place,” Lil commented.

Jonathan stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, after I taught Sock how to budget, it became something we could both afford. It’s a heck of a lot nicer _and_ the heater works, which is a plus because the last place required me to sleep in layers to stay warm. And Sock started to stay over more to take advantage of my body heat.”

“October had _no business_ being that cold!” Sock objected from the kitchen.

“See,” Jojo hissed, “he gets it!”

“I thought you hate him?” Lil asked, confused.

“Hating him is not the issue, it’s what he did to me in the past that I’m salty over, get it right!” Jojo snapped.

“Hey, Jon!” Sock called. “The first batch is almost done, can you start making the hot cocoa?”

“I sure can,” Jon replied, walking into the kitchen.

“Ooh!” Lil squeaked excitedly. “Do you have marshmallows?”

“Absolutely!” Sock responded. “Whipped cream too! After all, hot cocoa isn’t hot cocoa without marshmallows or whipped cream. Or both!”

“In that case, extra marshmallows for me!”

“Me too!” Jojo added eagerly.

“You got it!” Jonathan called back, adding cocoa powder to four mugs and filling them with hot water from a tea kettle on the stove.

After the cookies had cooled enough to eat without burning anyone’s mouth, Sock placed a plate down on the coffee table and relaxed into a chair. Jojo had almost finished her mug of cocoa by this time and was reaching for a cookie or two. She surprised her girlfriend by handing the second cookie she’d grabbed to Lil, who took it with a sweet smile and kissed Jojo’s cheek. Jojo flushed pink in flustered embarrassment and munched on her cookie.

“This is nice,” Lil said softly, taking a bite of her cookie. “You’ve really made this place into a home. I remember when Jonathan first showed it to me, it was so empty and sad…” she glanced at Jojo. “Kind of like how my life was before Jojo came along.”

That made Jojo blush red enough to put the sunset to shame. Both Jonathan and Sock couldn’t help but aww at the sweetness of it, and Lil giggled. “Same,” Jonathan said, looking meaningfully at Sock with a soft smile. Now it was Sock’s turn to blush red as a cherry.

Lil smirked, “That’s gay.”

“I’m gay.”

“And I’m bi.”

Both Jojo and Sock looked at her with confusion, to which she put her hand on her chest dramatically. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were stating the obvious.”

Jonathan shook his head. “I missed sassy Lil, I can’t believe it took the appearance of a fiery blond lesbian in your life to bring her back.”

“Well, she gave me a reason to live again. Did you know I quit smoking cigarettes?” Lil said.

“Yeah I saw it on your Facebook! What made you quit?”

“Well,” Lil took a sip of her cocoa. “Between learning that my family had a high risk of cancer via the consumption of carcinogens and developing asthma from smoking, I started going to therapy, and that helped with the stress that made me start smoking in the first place. It’s been a struggle to fight the addiction to nicotine that I developed, but every time I started getting itchy for a cigarette, I’d go for a run. The burn in my lungs from the exercise was similar to the burn I’d get from the nicotine, so it helped. And the exercise improved my mood and metabolism. I still have depression, but it’s a little easier to cope with now.”

“That’s great!” Jonathan grinned. “I’m glad things are better for you now!”

“Yeah,” Lil replied, smiling happily, her dark brown eyes shining. “Me too.”

There was a bit of a silence as everyone munched on warm soft chocolate chip cookies and drank gradually cooling cocoa. Then Lil broke it with, “So I guess that’s the end of you two being Laundry Buddies, huh?”

Sock and Jonathan glanced in the direction of the laundry room and then back at each other, and nodded. “Yeah,” Jonathan answered.

“Guess you’re Laundry Boyfriends now, huh?”

Sock and Jonathan flushed pink, but nodded.

“Or maybe, Laundry Fiancees?” Lil nodded to the ring hanging as a necklace on Sock’s neck. It wasn’t his grandma’s ring, this one was a plain looking, 14 karat gold band. Sock flushed and covered the ring with his hand. “I- It’s a promise ring, b-but I hate wearing rings, so it’s on my neck…”

“Aw, that’s cute,” Lil cooed, squishing her cheeks with her hands. “Congrats!”

Sock flushed darker in embarrassment, flapping his hands a little.

“This is good and all,” Jojo interjected, “But what _I_ really wanna know is: _what the hell, Sock?_ ”

Sock dropped his gaze into his mug. He knew this conversation would come eventually. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

“You left me!” Jojo stated, indignantly. “And you didn’t tell me where you were going!”

“That was on purpose,” Sock answered. “I didn’t want you telling anyone that I was leaving or where I was going. My parents would have tried to stop me, and I didn’t want to stay in that situation any longer. You would have jeopardized my plan to escape. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to leave you with not telling you anything, but I had to.”

She crossed her arms. “I can’t believe you trusted me so little… I thought we were friends.”

“We were, but you didn’t exactly give me a reason to trust you. You were kind of a huge gossip.”

“Okay, but, you couldn’t called me or anything after you got here? You just left and let me believe you got kidnapped, or killed-” Jojo’s voice broke, sounding like she was fighting back angry tears.

Sock shook his head. “It fell under the same reason. You would have told someone that I was alive, and my parents would have tried to track me down. I was a homeless minor on the run, I was wanted, and trying to avoid being caught. As it was when I went back to get my birth certificate and social security information, I was already in danger of getting caught. You knowing my location would have made that harder. After a couple years, I couldn’t bring myself to contact you. I knew you wouldn’t forgive me by then, so I just avoided you as best as I could.” He looked up. “What about you, why did you show up here?”

Jojo wiped her eyes, and looked at him defiantly. “I was tracking you down. I knew you couldn’t possibly be dead, and… then there was that huge court case custody battle thing between you and your parents. It was all over the news. Your parents neglect and mistreatment of you came into the light-”

Sock winced, and Jojo looked apologetic. “Oh, fuck, that’s still a sore subject, isn’t it?”

The ginger took in a breath. “I-it’s okay, he knows about it.” He nodded at Jonathan.

“O-okay, um,” Jojo paused to collect her thoughts. “And I realized, you were kinda justified in leaving like you did. I was still hurt that you didn’t tell me, but, if I had been in your situation… I wouldn’t have told me either.”

Sock nodded, chewing on his lip and fiddling with his necklace.

“It wasn’t easy to find you either. I tried to look up the news story to find your location, but it was if it had never happened. As if someone had paid the news stations to delete any mention of you. But I knew you had to be somewhere in the midwest, so I thought to myself, if I were a young neglected non-binary with only a little bit of money saved and a dog looking to get away from a situation, I’d want to go as far as I could afford to go, where no one would know who I was and there was no danger of someone reporting me to the police.”

There was a silence.

“So the midwest it was, huh?”

“I… I’d had a friend who lived here. She gave me and Silver…” he glanced a little jar filled with ashes on the shelf above the TV. “She gave us a place to stay, until I could get some kind of job that didn’t require me to know my SSN to hire me. It didn’t last, but it was a good foundation.”

“I see.”

Jonathan held up a finger. “Hey, do you mind giving us a little more insight on that, please?”

“Yeah, it sounds really interesting!” Lil agreed, reaching to grab another cookie.

Sock exchanged a look with Jojo, who nodded. He took a good long drink of his now warm cocoa.

“Well…” he began. “I guess it all really started when…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be fooled by that hook of an ending, this story is over, but a new story begins with it's sequel, Sock's prequel, Mafia of Misery, which will come out, hopefully, sometime next month. Stay tuned for updates by following my Tumblr: theenbywitch


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